The Beast Within
by Query
Summary: PreHush: The Riddler is diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. Refusing to accept that this is the end, he is willing to do anything and everything to live. Can he beat death? Or is he about to find out the answer to the ultimate riddle?
1. Headaches

General Disclaimer: The character Dee Lemma/Xiaohu/Query is the sole creation of me. Unauthorized use of my characters is not allowed. All other characters (Batman, The Riddler, and all other DC created Gothamites) are property of DC Comics.  
  
This fic takes place before Hush, and chronicles the events leading up to the opening of Hush. Due to the nature of this fic, I have created separate files for the notes. If you would like to view these files, please go to my homepage and read them there (a link is on my author page). You can find them listed under _The Beast Within_ directory, in the FanFiction section. I recommend that the first set of notes at least be read before reading this fic. It will explain my reasons for adding my character, Query, to this fic, as well as _why_ I chose to write this fic.  
  
Thank you,  
Query  
  


~ ~ ~

  
  
He was almost on them now. Already he had managed to stop them from stealing the jewels they were after. It was all Query could do to keep Batman at bay, while the Riddler worked to open the door to escape. By this time, he should have bypassed the security system, opening the door. A sudden and blinding headache was keeping him from concentrating and seeing exactly what he was doing. Each time he attempted to work the keypad, he hit the wrong sequence of keys.  
  
The fight had to end. He had to get out, and Query was the only one who could help him. Holding his cane like a gun, he poured his concentration into aiming at the vigilante. Shouting for her to get down, an action he knew the Dark Knight would follow as well, he prepared to fire. She faked to her right, and dove to her left, leaving Batman a target. The Riddler fired, sending a small bola at Batman. Though it was slightly off-target, it still managed to wrap around the man's arm and neck. It was all the Riddler needed, and he remote activated the electrical charge contained in the small, marble-sized balls.  
  
"Open the door," he ordered, stepping aside for Query to work.  
  
"You don't look so good, Eddie," she said as she entered the combination he gave her.  
  
"Just open the damn door!" he grumbled, attempting now to keep his stomach from leaping out of his mouth.  
  
In thirty seconds, they were out the door, and Query was pulling him along by the cuff of his jacket. Across the street, hidden in an alley, was the car. Query shoved the Riddler into the passenger seat and took off. There was no sign of Batman on their tail, and in the distance, she could hear the police sirens that would flood the area they had just left. She shot the Riddler a worried look, as he had taken up a fetal position on the passenger seat.  
  
"Get me to the bathroom, Dee," he groaned the second they pulled into the garage.  
  
There was no way he could hold back now as he emptied his stomach into the toilet, reducing himself swiftly to dry heaves. When he was through, he could barely stand. Dee helped him change and get to bed, giving him some Tylenol and leaving him to sip some mint tea.  
  
The headache lasted two days. Most of the time he spent huddled in bed, in so much pain he could barely keep warm. Dee fed him small amounts of chicken broth, but found out that anything solid would come racing back up. He was only too happy when the headache was gone.  
  
Over the following weeks, he had a series of minor headaches that he kept to himself. A Tylenol or four would get rid of them. Nothing to worry about, right? One night as he slept, however, the headache came back with such force that he couldn't help but wake Dee. She spent the rest of the night trying everything she could think of to comfort him.  
  
Unlike the previous headache, this one didn't go away. It lessened, almost disappearing on some days, and was so powerful others, it rendered him incapacitated. Against his wishes, Dee had their doctor, Yi Min Zhuang, come to examine him. She prescribed some painkillers, asking Dee to let her know if the pain got worse. She also suggested running some tests, but Eddie refused.  
  
Shortly after her first visit, Dr. Zhuang was back. Since her last visit, Eddie had had a seizure, losing control of his body functions. Dee was kind about the whole incident, simply cleaning him up, and helping him change into fresh clothes. He was embarrassed by it.  
  
Eddie was having a hard time keeping anything down, including the painkiller Dr. Zhuang had prescribed. Instead, she offered up a more powerful, morphine-based injection. By now, Dee rarely left his side. When she would, she would leave Benny and Trigger, his hired help, to watch over him. In order to pay for the doctor visits, and the medicine, she had returned to taking jobs with her Triad.  
  
"Eddie, darling," Dee began one morning as she let him rest his head in her lap, her fingers lightly stroking his temple. "I think it's time you took Dr. Zhuang's advice and had those tests run. This has gone on too long."  
  
It was a ritual now. He grumbled, wanting nothing more than to sleep off the shot she had just given him. He wanted to yell at her, tell her to get out of the room and let him sleep in peace. But he couldn't bring himself to say the words. The headaches had made him weak as a kitten, and he depended on her for everything. Every morning she would sit in the same spot, doing the same thing, saying the same thing, in hopes he would listen to her.  
  
Instead of answering, he nuzzled into her lap the way a child would. This was how he had learned to silently ask for comfort. She responded by putting her arms around him as best she could. Leaning her head on his shoulder, she cried quietly. Quaking, she was unable to hide the fact that she was in tears. For his sake, she had to be strong, and it just wasn't working.  
  
"We'll go," he relented, whispering as loud as he dared.  
  
She began covering his shoulder in kisses, and then taking his hand, she did the same to the back. He could feel the hot dampness of her tears as she cradled his hand to her face. Of course Dee knew that he had yielded for her sake and not his own. The foolish man!  
  
"One condition: We leave Gotham."  
  
"Of course. Of course. Don't worry about anything. I'll make all the plans. I'll get everything ready. Everything is going to be alright," she said, biting back a sob.  
  
The pale, thin, sweaty man in her lap was not the same man who had swept her into his arms a few months ago. He was still in there, but this shadow that clung to her made her wonder if the other hadn't just been a dream. Ever since he became sick, time seemed to flow at a different rate.  
  
Dee started humming tunelessly, rocking them both. Soon enough, he was sleeping soundly. The tense look on his face told her that he was still in pain. She would have done anything to ease that pain. Desperately she fought the urge to reach out for the vial of medicine and give him more. Dr. Zhuang had warned her that too much could prove fatal. Seeing him in pain was more acceptable than seeing him in a coffin.  
  
Or was it?  
  
Lying back against the pillows, she pressed his head to her breast. Her thoughts worried her. Death would bring an end to his pain, but would increase her own.  
  
_That's selfish. You want what's best for him, and you know it!_  
  
Was she willing to let him die, even if it was for the best? She wasn't certain.   
  



	2. Dr Thomas Elliot

  
  
Notes for this chapter may be found at my website by following the link on my author page. The notes will be listed in the fanfiction section, under _The Beast Within_ directory.  
  
Thank you,  
Query  
  


~ ~ ~

  
  
I had to drug him further than I wanted to in order to make the trip to Philadelphia a comfortable one. For him, anyway. The headaches had gotten worse, and I was relieved when he finally gave in and let me ask Dr. Zhuang to make arrangements for tests. Used to having to work on the sly being a doctor for the Jade Tiger Triad, as well for Eddie and me, she found us a doctor in another city, as we asked.  
  
Eddie wanted the best, so she got us an appointment with Dr. Thomas Elliot, one of the countries premier neurologists and brain surgeon. If it had to do with Eddie's brain, he insisted on the best. Dr. Zhuang had already scheduled the tests to be done at the University of Pennsylvania Hospital, rated number seven in the country for neurology. She would get a copy of the results, as well as Dr. Elliot.  
  
Thanks to the Triad, we had obtained false ID's and papers. Eddie wanted the name Arthur Wynne. I protested at the first name, asking if he could pick another name that didn't make me as angry as the name Arthur did. He calmly, but firmly explained to me that Arthur Wynne was the man who invented the crossword puzzle. I didn't argue after that. As I couldn't go by my own name, I chose to be called Delilah Wynne. I chose that name because I knew how difficult it was at times for Eddie to concentrate on things lately. Having to remember another name would not help. We were to pose as a husband and wife, knowing that it would be the only way I would have full access to him should it turn out to be anything.  
  
We arrived in Philadelphia around noon the day of Eddie's first appointment. With great effort I helped him up the stairs to the apartment the Triad had provided. I owed them more than I could possibly hope to repay by this point. Though I rarely took work with them since joining Eddie's gang, they always offered assistance when I needed it.  
  
Unfortunately, I had been forced to leave my three tigers, Tangram, Rebus, and Rubix, behind for this trip. The apartment we were in was too small to even think of having them there, and they would draw far too much attention to us. It was a shame, because I had taught them to bring Eddie food and water that I would leave in little bundles, a book, or fetch him another blanket when he asked. The tigers also allowed me to keep my distance from him when he was in one of his really foul moods, alerting me if he needed help.  
  
"There you go," I said, easing him into bed. "Sleep until we need to get going. I'll be right back, ok? I'm just going to get the luggage."  
  
Eddie said nothing, merely going right back to sleep the moment I pulled the blanket up around him. That was fine. He needed to sleep off the drugs.  
  
As I put things away, I couldn't help but press a pile of his shirts to my nose. Though they were clean, they retained a hint of his scent. I wanted to cry at how different the scent in the shirts smelled from how he now smelled. With my enhanced feline sense of smell, I could smell whatever sickness was eating at him, and it broke my heart.  
  
"Dee?" he called weakly from the bed.  
  
"I'm here, Eddie. What is it?" I asked, quickly wiping at my eyes before smiling down at him.  
  
"I want some soup and coffee. Make me some," he mumbled. In the next breath, he was asleep again.  
  
"Anything, Tiger."  
  
Leaving the unpacking aside, I went in the kitchen to start some soup. I was pleased to see that the Triad had indeed provided everything. The pantry was full, and the fridge and freezer well stocked. The latter was stocked with prepared items, such as dumplings, steamed buns, and other things that simply needed to be heated up to eat.  
  
While the soup cooked, I took a look around the tiny apartment to see what else was provided. There was a television, VCR, DVD player, and a stereo. Off in a corner, there was also a computer, but I had brought ours knowing that Eddie was particular to many of the files and games he had on his computer.  
  
"Eddie? Eddie, your soup is ready," I said softly, returning to the room with a tray.  
  
From how long it took him to sit up, and the fact that I had to feed him, I knew he was having one of his really bad days. He finished half the soup, and most of the coffee, before he decided I was being a pest and pushed the food and me away. By this point, I was so worried about the appointment, I was feeling nauseated myself.  
  


~ ~ ~

  
  
He was the kind of man that girls went for. He was almost as tall as I was, with chiseled features. Where my hair was black, his was red, and he had blue eyes, compared to my green. The only reason I chose to notice this was because Dee was giving him the once over when he entered the room. I softly snorted, knowing that she found the man attractive. Why didn't I say anything or get angry? Because I knew her too well. While she might admire another man, she would never act upon the idea of another man in her life. She was mine, and we both knew it. Instead, she held my arm, caressing it in that way she did that meant she was reassuring me my position was safe.  
  
We watched as Dr. Thomas Elliot flipped through my chart. He nodded here and there as he went. Dr. Elliot made a slight comment about us being from Gotham, to which I replied with a discontented grunt. I wasn't in the mood for small talk. I just wanted to get this damn thing over with and get back to bed, where I could sleep and grouse in my pain in private.  
  
"Well, Mr. Wynne. Care to tell me a bit more about your symptoms?" Dr. Elliot said, pulling one of those little penlights from his pocket. Clicking it on, he shined it directly into my eyes.  
  
To answer his question, and to respond to the light in my eyes, I proceeded to double over and vomit. Dee was quick, and held a kidney tray at the ready, catching the contents of my stomach. She rubbed my back as I continued to make certain I got rid of everything I had eaten. So much for lunch, and so much for the sleep that had helped me feel a little more human. As my heaving resided, I could hear Dr. Elliot scribbling in my file.  
  
"Mrs. Wynne, how long has he been like this?"  
  
"The headaches have been around for a few months. It's just been in the last few weeks that he's gotten worse. A week ago he had a seizure," she replied, wiping my mouth with a clean handkerchief. I sat back up, and she handed me water before wiping the sweat that had gathered on my forehead away. "He has his good days and bad. Today is a bad day."  
  
_Thank you for that newsflash,_ I grumbled to myself, swishing the water around in my mouth. I spat it into a clean kidney tray she offered. A chill came over me, and I began to shiver from the sudden cold. I noticed that my skin looked ashen now, and I could feel an overall clamminess accompany the cold.  
  
"I see." He flipped through the reports Dr. Zhuang forwarded. I recognized her handwriting. "It says here that you had some recent head trauma, Mr. Wynne."  
  
"Yes. A fight. My head was slammed into the wall a couple of times, and I suffered from a concussion," I replied, keeping my voice even. All the information was in the reports.  
  
He nodded. "Tomorrow you will go in for your tests. I want you to go home and get plenty of rest. Eat something if you can, because after midnight, you need to fast. No food, water, gum, or candy. Once you've had your CT scan, you may eat."  
  
"Any ideas what could be causing all this?" asked Dee.  
  
"I won't know for certain until I get the test results. My first guess would be trauma caused by the fight. Fluid might be building up on certain areas of the brain, causing the headaches and seizure."  
  
"Or?" I prompted. There was a note of hesitance that I didn't like.  
  
"Tumors, Mr. Wynne. But that would be a worse case scenario. Usually we find that it's silent bleeding on the skull or along the spine. If you'll excuse me for a moment, I need to have the nurse confirm your test times and give you the paperwork for them."  
  
Once he left the room, Dee turned and looked at me, sorrowfully, petting my face.  
  
"Enough, woman!" I snapped. I was not in the mood for her pity.  
  
She winced, and stood silently, eyes on the floor, twisting the handkerchief anxiously. The thing that bothered me is that I knew she was doing what she did out of genuine care for me.  
  
I sighed. "Rub my back," I said, my voice normal once more. Really, I did appreciate the attention, and her hands felt good, reassuring.  
  
Dr. Elliot came back in just then with a small sheaf of papers. Each was an order for tests, as well as instructions for each. He went over each one, assuring me that the results would be back within a couple of days, and he would call me immediately to let me know the outcome.  
  
Gathering the bag she insisted on dragging around, Dee and I said our goodbyes, and started to leave the office.  
  


~ ~ ~

  
  
The doctor watched the couple left the examination room. From over the top of his dark sunglasses, Mr. Wynne glared at the doctor. Mrs. Wynne looked displeased, giving the doctor a rather unnerving stare. Her eyes dropped back down when Mr. Wynne snapped at her to hurry. If anything, the woman was patient. Were it not for the fact that Mrs. Wynne obviously loved her husband, and the body language between the two, he would have thought the man abused her. The looks she gave her husband told him that the man's behavior was not normal. With illness like this, it was common for moods to change. 

~ ~ ~

  
  
The next morning, Dee loaded me into the car and took me to the hospital. Though I tried to walk next to her, it was soon obvious that my previous bad day had carried over. An orderly saw our need, and brought me a wheelchair. This is what I sat in, dozing, while Dee filled out the required paperwork.  
  
Once again, she had brought that damn satchel with her. From it she had pulled a New York Times crossword book. I wasn't interested in it at the moment, and it lay in my lap, untouched. As I sat there, she took a blanket from the bag, putting it across my lap. The other articles in the bag were snacks, my injections, and a change of clothing. I referred to it as my diaper bag, but realized that she did need to carry most of what she had not knowing if I would once again have a seizure and mess myself. Still, it made me feel like a complete child.  
  
_But that's what you are right now, aren't you? A helpless child,_ I told myself as I struggled to fight my way through the fog of the painkillers, pain, and exhaustion.  
  
The worst thing about all of this was having her see me weak. While she was the better fighter, I had always prided myself that if she got out of hand, I could always toss her over my shoulder. But not anymore. Now she was the one with the physical strength. I hated how I would sometimes catch her looking at me with those big, sorrowful eyes. Made me feel like a sideshow spectacle.  
  
Eventually they took me in. The technician helped me settle myself on the table for the MRI. Immediately after that, I was handed over to the CT scan technician. A woman came from the blood lab, drawing the sample that she needed from a port in the IV the CT technician had inserted into my right arm. When the flood of contrast solution hit my system, I had a pleasant warm sensation all over, just as the technician had said. Oddly, I found it to be the best experience of the day.  
  
"Here he is, Mrs. Wynne. He's free to eat now. We've taken all the scans we need to for today," the CT technician said, returning me to the waiting room of the Diagnostic Center.  
  
"Thank you very much," she said, smiling at the young man.  
  
"I can walk," I grumbled when she moved to take the handles of the wheelchair.  
  
Though I was a bit unsteady, I did manage to stand. Being her complacent self, Dee allowed me to use her for support as she helped me down to the cafeteria. I had her order me a cheese sandwich and a cup of tomato soup, not wanting anything too heavy. The light was still bothering me today, but not as bad as it had been when Dr. Elliot shined the light in my eyes. I still chose to keep my sunglasses on to block the glare of the fluorescents.  
  
"I'm surprised anyone survives eating this slop," I grumbled. The food was on par with what was served in Arkham.  
  
"How about I make you whatever you want for dinner to make up for this? Just name it."  
  
I knew exactly what I wanted. "Steak, potatoes, green beans."  
  
"Done." She put a hand on my arm, her voice softening. "How do you feel?"  
  
"Like Batman hit me with a brick wall. Again. Give me my shot," I said, a little more forcefully than I meant to.  
  
Knowing the hospital policy against administering drugs, even prescribed ones, unless a nurse on hospital grounds, she was very discreet as she rolled my sleeve up, injecting the medicine. Immediately I felt the warm flood of the painkiller as it rushed through my system. Knowing that I wouldn't be eating for a while, and that I needed to eat while I could keep it down, I forced myself to finish the meal.  
  
The final tests of the day were extensive memory and reflex tests. I was angered when I couldn't remember or name some of the items on the flashcards. One too many times, I literally dropped the ball during the reflex testing. By the end of it all, I was so tired that a wheelchair had to be brought around for me to leave the hospital.  
  


~ ~ ~

  
  
Once more, getting Eddie up the stairs proved to be a struggle. I cursed the building for not having an elevator, as I struggled to keep a hold of him on the stairs. Once inside the apartment, I put my arms around him and took him straight to bed. By the time I had gotten him into the bathroom, then out once more, undressed, and changed into pajamas, I was sweating.  
  
_All that sweating and work, and no physical pleasure,_ I grumbled to myself.  
  
Even if Eddie looked like hell, I still wanted him. I still found him attractive, and longed for sex with him. It pained me to see him so out of everything. I had watched the last of the tests, and could see his frustration when he couldn't name the picture on the flashcard.  
  
To help myself relax, I started dinner. Leaving the steak to marinate, I decided to take a shower. Certainly the hot water would help to settle my nerves. I ended up standing in the hot spray, crying, until the water gradually cooled.   
  



	3. Initial Diagnosis

  
  
Notes for this chapter may be found at my website by following the link on my author page. The notes will be listed in the fanfiction section, under _The Beast Within_ directory.  
  
Thank you,  
Query  
  


~ ~ ~

  
  
"Please make yourself comfortable. Dr. Elliot will be with you in a moment," the nurse said pleasantly as she seated them in the doctor's office.  
  
The two sat in silence, Edward staring forward at the empty desk, Dee glancing around at the numerous degrees on the wall. With the degrees were several framed articles praising Dr Elliot on his achievements in the medical community.  
  
"Mr. and Mrs. Wynne, thank you for coming down to see me," Dr. Elliot said by way of greeting. He shook hands with both before settling himself behind the desk. He took a deep breath as he picked up Eddie's chart, flipping it open to the hospital reports.  
  
"Look, Doc. Let's cut to the chase, hm? I don't want this dramatic bullshit that you're doing here. Just tell us what the tests found," snapped Edward. Though today was one of his better days, the outburst still sent splinters of pain through his head.  
  
"Very well. You're a no-nonsense kind of man, I can tell. Mr. Wynne, what we were looking for was any sign of bleeding on your brain, or perhaps the base of the skull, on the spine. You mentioned that you have had some recent head trauma. These symptoms can sometimes be caused by such trauma. What we found, Mr. Wynne, was a dense mass located against your cerebellum." Dr. Elliot paused. This was always the hardest part of his job. "Mr. Wynne, you have brain cancer."  
  
A strangled sob burst from Dee before she could stop herself. _No! NO! This has to be a dream. No, not a dream! A nightmare! This isn't real! This isn't happening! Eddie doesn't have cancer! You're lying to us!_ She wanted to scream, but her voice was lost.  
  
Edward sat there for a moment, stunned. His brain was the most important part of his body. If it were his choice, he would choose to have any other type of cancer. _Any_ type! But not his brain!  
  
Finally he nodded. "So what do we do?" he asked calmly.  
  
Dr. Elliot nodded his approval. The man was going to be level headed about it all. Elliot could only hope that the woman would be as well, once the initial shock wore off. If there was one thing the doctor noticed about his patients, it was that they generally seemed to take a diagnosis such as this better than their family or significant other. But as he watched, she reached out and took her husband's hand. He now noticed that his patient was trembling. So the man did have fear.  
  
"Well, there are options. One option is that we do nothing."  
  
"No. We will do _something,_" interrupted Mr. Wynne, fixing the doctor with a challenging stare.  
  
"Of course. I'm only giving you the list of options. It's up to you to decide which path to take. The second option is surgery, followed by radiation, and possibly chemotherapy. First we would remove the tumor, or as much as possible. This will relieve some of the pressure in your skull. With luck, it will also eliminate, or lessen the symptoms you're having right now. Once it's removed, we'll send it off for testing."  
  
"Testing?" Mrs. Wynne asked.  
  
"Yes. To see what type and stage the cancer is at. That will help us to determine the next step of radiation. I will need to send you back to the hospital for more tests, Mr. Wynne. We'll need baseline information to keep on file for the duration of your treatment."  
  
Edward nodded. "When can we schedule the operation?"  
  
"As soon as next week, if that's alright with you?" Dr. Elliot said, looking between the two.  
  
"The sooner the better. What are the risks of surgery?" he asked.  
  
"For the most part, similar to any surgery. Infection, swelling, and bleeding. With brain surgery, there's always the risk of brain damage."  
  
Dee wanted to hiss as Eddie's grip on her hand tightened. She understood his fear, so even when she felt her knuckles pop she sat still. He wouldn't be whole without his brain functioning correctly. But what kind of brain damage? Would the damage cause him to stop being the Riddler? No. The cancer had already seen to that. There would be a flurry of research the moment they returned home.  
  
"Please understand, Mr. Wynne, that we do everything possible to minimize any damage at all. If part of the tumor is too close, we will leave it, rather than risk the damage. What we can't cut out will be treated with radiation."  
  
Over the course of the next hour, Dr. Elliot discussed the surgery and answered questions. In detail he described the craniotomy he would be performing, from the holes drilled to the wires that would hold the bone flap in place. Surgery would be done with general anesthetic. Recovery would take around eight weeks.  
  
A folder was handed over, containing an array of pamphlets dealing with cancer and cancer patients. They covered everything from post-surgery to dietary needs to preparing the house for the patient's comfort.  
  
The nurse that had led them into the office now, Nurse Grey Machado, walked them down to the reception area. She was tall and slim, with silvering hair kept in a tight bun on top of her head. Like the other nurses, she wore a spotless, white uniform. At the front desk, she retrieved a folder, withdrawing a few sheets.  
  
"These are the orders for all of the other tests that need to be done. Bone scan, MUGA or heart scan, and a full body CT scan. Instructions are on each sheet, but the main thing to remember is not to eat or drink after midnight the night before the tests."  
  


~ ~ ~

  
  
I tried to keep my distance as best I could when we got back to the apartment. He was in a horrendous mood, and I had no desire to have him continue to snap at me. Every now and then he would call me back into the living room, where he had set himself up. From the moment we had arrived home, I had been running searches on the Internet and printing information out for him. At first he had tried to do it himself, but the glare of the screen bothered him too much. Soon enough, the living room was littered with printouts.  
  
Nothing I could offer him that night seemed to help his mood. By the time I followed him to bed, I was frazzled from having to gauge exactly how angry he was. Truthfully, I was not looking forward to bed, and almost slept on the couch. But I knew that his anger was due to the diagnosis coupled with the pain he was in.  
  
Quietly, so as not to disturb him and cause him to yell at me again, I crawled into bed. To my surprise, the moment I was settled, he came to me, curling against me, head on my chest. He held me so tightly I could barely breathe. It was then I knew that he wasn't really angry, but frustrated and upset that his body would betray him so.  
  
"Eddie? Eddie, Tiger, talk to me. Say something," I urged, stroking his hair.  
  
At that moment, I had an inappropriate thought. Would they need to shave his head for the operation? I was certain they would need to shave at least a small area. But I didn't think I could bear to see him lose the thick hair that I had come to love the feel of.  
  
Then he shocked me for the second time in as many minutes. Without warning, he began to kiss my chest through my camisole. I stiffened, uncertain of what to do, and unwilling to return the sudden affection for fear of hurting him.  
  
"Please." It didn't come out of his mouth in a pleading way. It came out in a voice I had come to think of as his "little lost boy" voice.  
  
"I - I'm not certain if we can," I stammered.  
  
At that moment, I would have done anything to avoid the angry and betrayed look in his eyes as he said, "Why? Because I have cancer?"  
  
Biting my lower lip, I shook my head at him. "No. Of course not. I worry about your strength, about hurting you. You're not..."  
  
"I'm not what?" he demanded, daring me to continue to speak.  
  
What exactly could I possibly say that wouldn't sound like the wrong thing to him?  
  
I took his face in my hands, stroking his lips with my thumbs. "Tiger, I want you, believe me I do! You don't have the strength that you did a few months ago. You know that's true! And as much as I want you, I would never forgive myself if this harmed you!"  
  
With a snarl, he pushed himself onto me, kissing me roughly and running his hands along my body. "You want me to prove myself to you, you damn woman?" he panted, staring defiantly down at me.  
  
There was a strange combination of fear and lust as I looked at him above me. Whether my unexpected trembling was from my fear or my desire to have him, I wasn't certain. But he suddenly realized his actions, and dropped his head to my shoulder, leaving his hand where it had stopped at the curve of my breast. In the moment before he had lowered his head, I could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew he was weaker now, and needed to admit the truth.  
  
"I'm sorry," he sighed. "But just because we now know what has been causing all of this does not mean that I am any different than I was before. This is just a new facet. I will not allow you or anyone else define who I am by this cancer! I am Edward Nigma, the Riddler!"  
  
I placed a kiss on his forehead, putting my arms around him. "You are Edward Nigma, the man I love more than anything in this world. I meant no harm or slight. I just need you to tell me, truthfully, how you feel. No sugar coating."  
  
Eddie chuckled bitterly and rested his chin on my shoulder, looking up at me. "I feel like shit. I feel like Batman is using my head as a punching bag. When the light is too bright, I feel as though someone is twisting my intestines around with a hot fork. I feel like everything I ever knew in my life has just been blown out the window, only to be replaced by this whole surreal experience." He paused, lifted a hand, and brushed a stray lock of hair away from my eyes. "And then there's you. You drive me nuts checking on me all the time, taking my temperature, feeding me when I can barely hold my hands steady, and always, _always,_ being patient with me, even when I'm yelling at you."  
  
"Because I know that you're sick. You're always grumpy when you're sick, because it frustrates you to be so dependant. On top of that, you're stubborn. You'll never tell me you need anything unless I see that you need it and offer it."  
  
There was a genuine smile on his face as I spoke. "I know. But please promise me that no matter what, you will not treat me like a cancer patient. You will continue to play at riddles and games with me through all of this." He shook a finger at me. "Most importantly, you will not tell anyone about this without asking me first. I will take it as a great betrayal if you do."  
  
"I can promise that. But we have to tell Manchu and Jiaoshu. They've been helping us."  
  
He slowly nodded. "Of course they'll be told. They're your family, and they've earned the right to know. Not just because they're helping us. I don't want any of my crowd knowing though. It must be kept secret."  
  
"Yes, Eddie. I won't say a word to anyone about it unless you've told me it's ok." I ran my fingers through the beads of sweat that had appeared on his forehead. In comparison to his forehead, my fingers were cool. "You need rest."  
  
"I need what I need," he said, adjusting himself on me once more. "I want what I want. And I want and need according to my own schedule."   
  



	4. Pre op

  
  
Notes for this chapter may be found at my website by following the link on my author page. The notes will be listed in the fanfiction section, under _The Beast Within_ directory.  
  
Thank you,  
Query  
  


~ ~ ~

  
  
As he slept next to me, I felt like a complete idiot. Of all the times I had been able to read his mood, my ability chose tonight to fail. Before any of this, I was able to judge his mood much better, and then act accordingly. If I hadn't been so blinded by his sickness, I would have known that he wanted exactly the same thing that I did.  
  
For me, I had always found comfort in the act of sex. I had to reason that he did too, seeing as how he allowed me to seduce him often enough. When I first learned his moods, I had tried to ease his stress with a massage, or rubbing his temples. He loved the latter, and it seemed to relax him well enough. However, there were times that neither would work. It didn't take me long to realize that I could get him to release a lot of his stress and tension if I could get him into bed.  
  
I looked down at him, his head resting on my left breast as he held me, our legs still tangled together. A wave of guilt washed over me once more. He looked so much more peaceful now, a slight smile on his lips even as he slept on.  
  
I should have known. I should have realized.  
  


~ ~ ~

  
  
When Dr. Elliot had told us the diagnosis, I knew we would be staying in Philadelphia for much longer than expected. Once more, the Jade Tigers came to our aid. With their help, Dee and I were moved to a large house.  
  
The whole process of moving once more started Dee and I arguing about petty issues. She wanted me to take a ground floor room at the house. I wanted one of the fourth floor. She wanted me to wear warmer pajamas, and wear a robe around the house.  
  
Fine, so the last wasn't a big deal, and I refused out of stubbornness. She just made it so easy for me to get annoyed when she would do exactly what I asked her not to do, and treat me like an invalid! But we managed to settle ourselves into the new house, and were better off for the move. Dee gave in to my bedroom choice, only because the house had an elevator in it.  
  
Because the house was so large and private, along with having a large, lush garden, Dee was able to have her tigers back with her. Though they often caused me more grief than anything, I was pleased that they were back. It gave Dee somewhere else to expend energy and care, as well as company for her when I wanted to be by myself.  
  
The house was surrounded with a wrought iron fence with a gate at the front, and one at the back. Also at the back was a detached garage. Between the house and the garage, to the right side of the house, was a swimming pool, complete with a rocky formation and a waterfall. The garden was verdant and dense enough that the tigers could wander around it without being seen. Dee had to tell them that they needed to stay away from the paths and far enough back from the fence, however. Surrounding the entire house was a wraparound porch. This was great for the tigers, because at any time of the day, they could find sunny patches outdoors to sleep in.  
  
At the moment, I was sitting in the window seat of the room I had chosen, reveling in the sun that warmed me as I took my afternoon nap. This was exactly why I had chosen this room. The skylights let in enough sun in the morning to warm the room, and in the afternoon, I could sit in the large bay window and look at the garden. I even had a view of the swimming pool, where I would be able to watch Dee as she splashed around with her tigers, or simply went swimming herself.  
  
The last time I had looked, Dee was at the garage with Manchu, unloading the last of our things from the back of her black Mariah that Manchu had brought. Tonight she was fixing me what she was calling a sampler dinner; small portions of all my favorite dishes. It would be the last meal I would have before surgery in the morning. After midnight, I wasn't allowed to eat or drink anything, and once I could eat again, I would be subjected to the horrible food at the hospital.  
  
While I attempted to make my way down to dinner using the stairs, I found myself getting tired, and my headache increasing, so I took the elevator the rest of the way. After dinner, we went back up to the bedroom, where she let me rest against her while she massaged my temples.  
  
As she held me, she nuzzled her face into my hair. It was a point of vanity for me, and I was going to miss the stuff. Dr. Elliot assured me that I would only have to have a small portion shaved off, but I couldn't stand the idea of having a bald spot, so I had decided that I would have the nurses completely shave my head when they came to prep me for surgery. I kept my eyes closed as Dee fingered my hair, memorizing how her fingers lightly tugged at my hair, and how her breath ruffled it.  
  
Even though we already had the diagnosis, I considered tonight my last night as the Edward Nigma the world knew. Tomorrow I would undergo surgery and become a new Edward Nigma, or Arthur Wynne, as was the case. Taking complete advantage of that, and the fact that today had been a good day, I made love to my girlfriend. I had no idea when I would be able to enjoy such a pleasure again, or even feel up to this activity. Plus, it made me feel whole. When we were through, Dee allowed me to remain nuzzled against her breast as I fell asleep.  
  


~ ~ ~

  
  
The nurses had Eddie attached to so many machines. Each one beeped at intervals, and each only reinforced the fact that he was about to undergo major surgery. I sat in a corner of the room, watching the nurses buzz around him like bees. They had shaved his head, letting me keep a couple locks. It was one of these locks that I nervously twisted around my finger as I watched his expressionless face.  
  
One of the nurses offered him two little paper cups. The first contained pre-op pills; the other held only enough water to swallow the pills. He eyed them warily, but took them once the nurse explained what each pill was for. Like him, the sight of the cups gave me flashbacks to Arkham and med time. After he took the pills, the nurses gathered their things, telling him they would be back in about a half hour to check on him. He would be going to surgery within the hour.  
  
"How you feeling, Tiger?" I asked, taking a seat at the side of the bed.  
  
I smiled down at him, an expression he tried to return. The smile quickly turned bitter as he smacked his parched lips. His eyes left my face, and he stared at the IV sticking out of his left hand.  
  
"Terrible. I don't want to be here. I don't want to be going through this."  
  
"I know, sweetheart, I know," I soothed, stroking his now bald head. The skin felt so strange. Soft, yet tacky under my fingers, like velvet. I placed a kiss on the crown of his head, and tucked his head under my chin.  
  
"No, you don't know, Dee. You know only from an outside view. You will never know what it is like to be told that you have cancer..." He trailed off, fighting to keep his eyes opened, fighting, even, to keep his anger.  
  
"No, that I don't know. But I do know that if it affects you, it affects me. I know what it's like to have the one I love be diagnosed. It's more than I ever wanted to know, and I would trade places with you in a heartbeat," I said quietly. So many times I had been tempted to lose my temper with him. The only thing that stopped me was that I really didn't know what it was like from his point of view. What he must be going through, I could only stand next to him, and imagine.  
  
For the next half hour, I occupied his time helping him do a crossword puzzle. We didn't get too far as the pills and IV drip started to kick in, making him drowsy. It was a depressing sight to see, especially when only a few short months ago he would be halfway through an entire book of puzzles in that same half hour.  
  
Before the nurses wheeled him away, I gave him a parting kiss on the lips, and one on the forehead. Standing at the door, I watched as he disappeared around the corner. Once he was out of sight, I returned to the room. Heading straight for the chair I had vacated to sit at his bedside, I collapsed in it, sobbing myself to sleep.   
  



	5. Surgery

  
  
Notes for this chapter may be found at my website by following the link on my author page. The notes will be listed in the fanfiction section, under _The Beast Within_ directory.  
  
Thank you,  
Query  
  


~ ~ ~

  
  
She kissed me goodbye, an action that felt like a dream in the state I was in. Then I felt like I was floating along as the nurses wheeled me to the operating room. Above me, the glaring fluorescence flashed, causing me to wince at the intensity of them. Bumps alerted me to doors being passed through, and then one final bump as I was transferred from the gurney to the operating table.  
  
"Good morning, Mr. Wynne. This is Dr. Arikaki. He'll be your anesthesiologist today. I'm Dr. Cole, and I'll be assisting Dr. Elliot with your operation today."  
  
I was beyond caring at this point. I was barely coherent. The anesthesiologist strapped my left arm to an extension on the table, hooking a second IV drip up to the one I already had. Using the port, I watched as he injected a mixture of drugs, explaining what they would do. Most of his explanation was lost as the bright lights of the room dimmed to black.  
  


~ ~ ~

  
  
Too quickly I was waking up again. Carefully, I sat up, surprised to find myself in my cell at Arkham. I was overheating and covered in the slimy sweat of a bad nightmare. With the thin sheet on my bed, I wiped the sweat off, and reached for my shirt. As I secured the ties on my pants, I pressed myself to the glass. Down the hall I could hear the screaming rants of Jonathan Crane. The recently returned Joker was cackling in a most perverse way.  
  
Further down the hall in the opposite direction, came the soft whispers and rustles of Pamela Isley talking to her plants. Harleen Quinzel was humming in an attempt to harmonize with the Joker's insane cackling. But Dee... I couldn't remember where she was, or if she was even there. Unlike the others, she was hardly one to make noise when she didn't want to.  
  
I was bothered by the fact that I couldn't remember if she had come in with me or not. What's more, I couldn't remember how long I had been in Arkham this time. Had it been hours? Days? Weeks? Months? I just didn't know! Quickly I ran my hand through my hair, searching for any telltale sign that Jervis Tetch might have slipped a little something onto my head. I found nothing. Distressed, I leaned against the cold, stone wall, sliding down until I was sitting in a ball.  
  
Now I was cold. I pulled the blanket from my bed, wrapping it around my shoulders and tucking it under my bare feet. Why couldn't I remember anything? For comfort, I recited the prime numbers, rocking back and forth on my cold feet. A sudden high-pitched sound, similar to a dentist's drill, pierced my skull, crumpling me to the floor as I cried out. My head felt like it was caught in the maw of an animal.  
  
Just as suddenly as the pain had started, it stopped. Shaking and sweating, I uncurled myself and looked around. Crawling to the toilet, I hung my head over the bowl and vomited. Once I had been reduced to dry heaves, and a racking cough, I pressed myself against the cold stone floor. Now the cold was welcome, cooling my feverish body, even if it was knotting my intestines further. There was nothing left to throw up. After swishing my mouth out in the sink, I crawled back into bed and huddled under the covers until the guards came for me.  
  
I had no interest in going to the rec room today. I would have preferred to stay in my bed and try to figure things out. But I let the guard lead me, forgoing my usual riddled jabs at the oaf. The pain had been replaced with an unusual tickling sensation inside my skull. Brain tickle. I had to smile at that.  
  
When I arrived at the rec room, I was not surprised to find Joker there, holding court. Every time he returned, the same thing would inevitably happen. Harley was doing her duty gathering the inmates, comatose or not, to sit around where the Joker was. They sat complacently, none daring to move from their position. One thing every patient knew was not to piss the Joker off, especially at one of his recitals. What new tale of daring-do would he be telling today? How would he make it out that he was the victim of the crime, not the perpetrator?  
  
"What's going on?" I asked as Harley skipped past holding the hand of a comatose male patient as she dragged him along in her wake. The man had a thread of spittle dangling halfway to his knees, the front of his uniform soggy from drool.  
  
"Puddin' is telling us stories about his latest adventure!" she squeaked excitedly. "Grab a seat, Riddleboy, and shut your pie hole!"  
  
_If Joker didn't hit you all the time, I would,_ I thought to myself. Of course I wouldn't actually. But at the moment, the thought was tempting. Instead, I picked up a book, and randomly flipped through it, trying to ignore the buzz in my head, as well as the twitter of Harley and the Joker.  
  
"Then she shot me! And I died! Yes, I, your humble King Joker, died," Joker was saying.  
  
Harley burst into tears on cue, wailing and dabbing her eyes with the sleeve of a nearby patient. "Oh, Mistah J! Say it ain't so!"  
  
"Oh, but it is, Pooh! It is! Eight times she shot me in the chest. The bitch," he said, losing his composure for a moment to snarl. The snarl was quickly interrupted with a burst of giggling. "Next thing I know, I'm floating in some pool of stinking goo with the Batman waiting for me! But I'm alive and kickin'!"  
  
Harley cheered and jumped up and down, her pigtails bouncing along with the rest of her.  
  
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Putting my book down, I turned to the clown. "That has got to be the most cockamamie story you have ever told, Jack. Dying and coming back to life? So what? You're a phoenix now?"  
  
The Joker sneered. "You're just jealous, Eddie."  
  
"Jealous? Of what?"  
  
"That I've solved one of the greatest riddles before you did: Is there life after death?" The ruby red smile twisted into a mockery of pleasantness. "And if you don't watch your tongue, you'll find out the answer to that riddle very quickly."  
  
"So you want us all to believe that this Al Ghul fellow had his daughter kidnap you and take you to some secret hideaway in Antarctica. Upon arriving there, he gave you a lab, and the means to create a biological weapon to kill off five billion people. You created the weapon, tried to use it on Al Ghul and his daughter, got double crossed, and they killed you. But you're saved by this pool of goo and brought back to life." I made an almost noncommittal grunt as I stood. "I'm not buying it. Why would Batman save you if you died?"  
  
Harley delivered a quick punch to my stomach, doubling me over. Had my stomach not been empty already, I would have emptied it onto her shoes. From the corner of my eye, I could see the guards starting to mill around us, holding back until they saw which way the confrontation would go.  
  
"Why wouldn't Bats bring my Puddin' back to life?! If anyone deserves to live, it's him! How would the world ever get along without his brilliant comedic mind?" she raged.  
  
"Now, now, Pooh. Let's remember that ol' question mark drawers thinks that he's the smartest of us all." Joker turned Harley to the chair he had been sitting in and swatted her bottom, shoving her roughly at the chair. "You'd do well to remember, Edward, that you live by my good graces," he said in a low, raspy voice. Once more, it turned to a sudden chuckle as he slapped me on the back. "Besides, you amuse me!"  
  
Without flinching, I set my jaw and looked from Harley to the Joker. "I think someone has been watching a little too much _Crossing Over._"  
  
The Joker pulled his fist back, preparing to smash it into my face. Before he could throw the punch, the guards swarmed us, pinning us all to the ground in a flash. Though I didn't struggle, the guards were their usual over-rough selves, forcing my arms behind my back. As they did, a fiery, white-hot sting spread through my skull. Involuntarily, I howled in pain. The pain was so intense that I passed out before the guards could lift me off the cold stone floor.   
  



	6. In the Blood

  
  
Notes for this chapter may be found at my website by following the link on my author page. The notes will be listed in the fanfiction section, under _The Beast Within_ directory.  
  
Thank you,  
Query  
  


~ ~ ~

  
  
"He's going to be ok. We've just given him something to help him sleep. We were able to remove almost the entire tumor. I would have gone for all of it, but part of it was dangerously close to his brain for me to attempt to remove," Dr. Elliot said as he brought Eddie back to the room.  
  
"And the radiation should help with the piece that you had to leave in?" I asked, stepping up to the side of Eddie's bed.  
  
His head was swathed with a bandage. Trailing from underneath was a clear tube to drain off any fluid from the surgery site. Putting my hand on his, I shivered at how cold and clammy his skin felt.  
  
"Yes. The radiation should kill off any cancer cells remaining, as well as shrink the remaining piece. What we did remove has already been sent off to the hospital lab for analysis. We should have the results back in a few days. In the meantime, we'll be running more tests on him to make certain that his brain is functioning correctly."  
  
Silence settled over the room as I watched him sleep, gently running my fingers over his face. With him asleep, it was easier for me to let myself cry. As I stood there, I shook with silent sobs, my tears falling on the blanket that covered his motionless body.  
  
"I need to check on some other patients, but I'll be back in a couple of hours to check on him."  
  
"Doctor?"  
  
"Yes?" he said, sounding as if he expected me to ask something he did not yet know the answer for.  
  
"Thank you." I turned to face him, holding Eddie's hand in mine. "For everything you've done for him so far."  
  


~ ~ ~

  
  
Dr. Elliot left the room, walking down the hall, away from the strange couple. He wasn't certain how long Mrs. Wynne would be thanking him once he came back to talk to her. As he had been scrubbing up after surgery, he received a call he had been waiting for on Arthur Wynne's blood work. While there was a heavy amount of morphine in his blood from the painkiller, there were also traces of some odd chemicals. The chemicals, after further testing, were found to be from some very powerful anti-psychotic drugs, some of them experimental.  
  
Nowhere in his charts was there a mention of any psychological problems. While he was operating, Nurse Machado had called Dr. Zhuang's office, but the doctor herself claimed no knowledge of any of the drugs. Dr. Elliot needed to find out _why_ his patient was taking such drugs, not only to know if they would interact with any of the drugs Mr. Wynne would need to take, but also if the man still needed them.  
  
Before he confronted the woman with his questions, he would give her some time alone with her husband.  
  


~ ~ ~

  
  
Eddie woke up for a short while, and asked for a drink. I had never been so happy to see his green eyes as I was while I held the cup of juice and straw for him to sip through. I teased him that he would probably have preferred a nice scotch rather than apple juice. He managed a little smile before slipping back to sleep. While he slept, I dabbed a small amount of Vaseline on his lips, chapped from the drugs.  
  
As long as I wasn't actually disturbing Eddie, the nurses allowed me to remain. Though he was barely coherent, I played some soft classical music for him, and read the clues to the crossword puzzle we hadn't finished. Soon enough, I found myself slumped against Eddie, asleep with my head on his shoulder.  
  
"Mrs. Wynne?"  
  
"Hm?" I asked sleepily, raising my head.  
  
"Mrs. Wynne, you've been in here all day with nothing to eat. Come with me and we'll have a snack," Dr. Elliot said.  
  
"I'm not hungry, thanks," I replied, straightening Eddie's blankets. He slept on.  
  
"Then at least have a cup of coffee or tea. Let Mr. Wynne rest. He'll be fine for a half hour."  
  
My mind struggled with the decision. I really was hungry, but couldn't bring myself to leave Eddie's side in case he woke. I looked at him, my brows knitting in worry. In my mind, I heard him tell me to stop fussing over him, and get something to eat. Reluctantly, I nodded. I wasn't happy, but I felt I had to obey Eddie on this. Tugging on one of Eddie's shirts for a jacket, I softly kissed his brow, and then followed the doctor to the hospital commissary.  
  
The good doctor insisted on buying me a sandwich, along with a cup of tea. I sat silently, picking at the food after we settled at the table in the almost empty dining room. Dr. Elliot sat across from me, sipping his coffee and cracking his neck.  
  
"I have to admit, Mrs. Wynne, that I had an ulterior motive in asking you to come have a snack with me." He chuckled lightly as I froze, staring harder at my sandwich. "I need to talk to you, Mrs. Wynne."  
  
"It's about Arthur, isn't it?" I asked, struggling to remember to call him by his assumed name. I tore at the bread, fighting back the tears that threatened to come again at the thought of Eddie lying in a hospital bed.  
  
"He seems to be doing fine so far. We'll continue to monitor him over the next forty-eight hours. I don't see why he wouldn't pull through just fine. What I want to talk to you about is the medicines he's been taking."  
  
I shrugged, unconcerned. "Dr. Zhuang prescribed that painkiller. I worry about him getting addicted to the morphine in it," I admitted.  
  
"Those aren't the drugs I'm talking about. You have to know about the ones I'm talking about, Mrs. Wynne. His blood analysis showed residuals of anti-psychotic drugs. Some of those drugs are listed as experimental."  
  
I flinched, as if slapped. His voice had started to sound like Dr. Matthiessen's at the moments the doctor would get angry that I wasn't talking to him. My shoulders slumped, and I pulled my feet onto the chair with me, wrapping the shirt tighter around my body. I focused on the sandwich, willing everything else to go away.  
  
"Mrs. Wynne, you need to tell me why he was taking those medications, and if he still needs them. It's very important."  
  
Now I started rocking back and forth. There was absolutely no way I could tell the doctor about the drugs. Doing so would expose Eddie and me, something I was not going to do. Besides, I had promised him I wouldn't give away his secret, and I meant to keep that promise. Taking a deep breath, I calmed myself, unfolding myself as I looked up at him.  
  
"He doesn't need them. He never needed them."  
  
"Then why was he taking them? Doctors don't just go handing stuff like that out like candy."  
  
The bitter laughter that came out of me surprised us both. Neither of us was expecting my reaction. Shaking my head, I continued to chuckle. I could remember more occasions than I wanted to where the doctors had forced us to take medications, drugging us whether we wanted, or needed, with whatever new pill or shot they had. It was common practice at Arkham, and rarely ever documented in files that were seen outside the asylum.  
  
"They don't, do they? Oh, Dr. Elliot, how wrong you are. How very wrong you are," I said softly, a growl edging my words. "For a brain surgeon, you don't know much, do you?" Leaning across the table, I shook my head at him again. "Why he was on them is not for me to tell you. Ask him yourself when he wakes up. He might tell you, he might not. But do not ask me to tell you his secrets. I do not betray his confidence, and you would be wise to remember that. Thank you for the sandwich."  
  
Pushing myself away from the table, I left Dr. Elliot staring after me. That he would ask me such a thing infuriated me! How dare he come to me for answers that weren't mine to give! If I had learned one thing from Eddie, it was that you never give anyone an answer unless they need it. Even then, the rule could be adjusted. Eddie had been very specific about his rules. No one was to know who he was. He had given me permission to deal with anyone who uncovered his identity how I saw fit.  
  
Storming back into his room, I pulled my chair back up to his bedside. There was no way I could stop the tears of frustration that now coursed down my face. To comfort myself, I placed a hand over Eddie's heart, watching as my hand rose and fell with his breathing. I didn't know what to do. On one hand, I knew that the information could be important to Dr. Elliot. On the other, Eddie would never forgive me if I told the doctor about Arkham. I was also worried that if he learned who we really were, he would call the cops and have us taken back to Gotham. There was no way I was going to let Eddie rot in Arkham, knowing they would do as little as possible to treat him.  
  
"Mrs. Wynne?"  
  
"Go away," I said, burying my face in the folds of Eddie's hospital gown.  
  
"Mrs. Wynne, you have every right to be upset. I'm not asking you these questions in order for you to betray his confidence. As his doctor, I should have been told."  
  
I didn't answer, choosing to stroke Eddie's chest instead.  
  
"Very well, Mrs. Wynne. I'll wait to ask him. Should you change your mind, you know how to contact me."  
  
The door closed as he let himself out. I lifted my head and looked at Eddie. Though he had dark bags under his eyes, he looked peaceful as he slept. His comfort was all that mattered. Curling my feet onto the chair, I pulled his arm around my shoulders. Laying my head on the edge of the bed, I soon fell asleep myself.   
  



	7. Recalling the Past

  
  
Notes for this chapter may be found at my website by following the link on my author page. The notes will be listed in the fanfiction section, under _The Beast Within_ directory.  
  
Thank you,  
Query  
  


~ ~ ~

  
  
After a week of being poked and prodded by doctors, physical therapists, and nurses, I was told that I was healing just fine. A week and a half after surgery, I was able to walk the length of my room without assistance. Everyone involved approved of how quickly I was recovering.  
  
Dee had told me that Dr. Elliot was asking about the drugs given at Arkham. She explained that she had told him that if he wanted answers to those questions, he would have to ask me. When he finally came in to ask me, I replied by asking him if the residue would negatively affect anything I was currently being given. He admitted to doing a little more research, noting that the drugs wouldn't interact, and said no. Still he wanted an answer.  
  
"If they aren't going to affect my treatment, then it is no business of yours as to why those chemicals were found in my blood, Doctor. Do not ask again," I said acidly.  
  
Today, exactly ten days after surgery, I was getting my results back. Dee sat next to me, holding my hand when Dr. Elliot came to tell us the biopsy findings. Though I didn't say it, I was glad to have Dee there with me, and the comfort of her hands holding mine. My palms were damp with nervous sweat.  
  
"Mr. and Mrs. Wynne," he began.  
  
"Just the results," I interrupted curtly. His need to put on the pomp of a doctor annoyed me at times.  
  
Nodding, he flipped the report open. "It says the tumor is a Stage IV glioblastoma multiforme, or GBM."  
  
"Layman's terms, Dr. Elliot," insisted Dee. She had no patience for the technical talk.  
  
He sighed. "Terminal brain cancer. The chance that you'll make it through treatment and go into remission is poor. We will, of course, continue to treat you in hopes that it will go into remission."  
  
"If it does go into remission, what are the chances that it will come back?" I asked.  
  
"Very high. With treatment, you could have six to eight months. Without it," he shrugged, "it's hard to say. The cancer is extremely aggressive, and with brain tumors, the cells tend to seed themselves throughout the brain tissue. If, or when, a tumor comes back, it might not return to the original area."  
  
"So you're saying that, over time, my skull will be filled with tumors, and I'll die." The grip I had on Dee's hands increased. She soothed my nerves by rubbing my arm. "It doesn't sound like the treatment will be worth it."  
  
"There's still a chance of remission, Mr. Wynne."  
  
"I understand that!" I spat.  
  
"Dr. Elliot, would you please leave us alone for a while?" Dee asked.  
  
"Not until he tells me what happens to my body when, not _if_, the tumors come back!" I demanded.  
  
Standing at the foot of the bed, he looked down at me. From the look on his face, I knew he was trying to find a way to tell me the worst.  
  
"Ok. The tumors will come back. With their return will come the headaches. Most likely you'll suffer from more seizures this time around. There could be spontaneous loss of body functions, and muscle control. It's possible that you'll have a stroke, or embolism. I can't say what will kill you. But yes. Eventually your entire brain will be invaded by tumors. Most likely, the cancer will spread to other parts of your body."  
  
My hands were trembling so badly by now, I didn't dare raise one to point at the door. "Now go."  
  
The moment the door closed, I turned my head into Dee's shirtfront, and did what I hadn't done for a long while: I cried. She did what she always did the few times I had cried, cradling and peppering my head with kisses. My tears and running nose took no time to dampen her shirt. She cooed, using the hem of her shirt to wipe my nose when it got too bad.  
  
I was always embarrassed when I cried, especially in front of her. She didn't scold me for crying; she didn't lecture me on such a show of emotion. The first time I had cried, I had later tried to apologize for my outburst. Only then did she scold me.  
  
"It's a great man who can express that kind of emotion. It's a boon, not a failing. You're not weak because you shed tears. And you'll always be strong to me," she had said. Dee softened her words with a kiss, letting me know that she wasn't actually upset with me. After that, I had always gone to her when I needed comforting. She would give it without me saying a word.  
  
Strangely, I found that crying felt good this time. All my pent up frustration felt like was were flooding out of me. I clung to her in desperation and comfort. She was the rock I held onto to prevent myself from being washed away. Though I knew she was scared, she knew that I was more frightened than her. I didn't want to die. I knew I would one day, and find the answer to the great riddle of death. But not now! It was too soon! Much too soon!  
  
"I won't leave your side. I'll be with you every step of the way. I swear to you, Eddie. Every step of the way," she whispered to me, kissing my cheek.  
  
I realized then that she needed comfort as well, and kissed her.  
  
"Together then. All the way," I mumbled.  
  


~ ~ ~

  
  
A week later, I was released from the hospital. In that time, I had come to terms with the reality that I wouldn't be around to see Dee's next birthday, let alone my own. No longer would I be able to play the dangerous game I loved with Batman. Dee would continue. It would take her a while, but I knew that she would eventually find peace, and be able to live and laugh once more.  
  
What kept me going and happy was that she was keeping her promise to me. Once in a while, she slipped and started treating me like a patient, but for the most part, she continued to act as if things were normal. She played games of riddles with me, did crosswords, and played board games. Every weekday, she took me back to the hospital for radiation treatments, taking me for drives after, or returning straight home if I wasn't feeling well.  
  
Most of my day was spent sitting in the window seat, and I took most of my meals in the room. Sometimes I would sit at the poolside and watch Dee swim, or if she sat with me, the tigers splashing in the water. In reality, things remained fairly normal outside of the doctor visits and treatment.  
  
Dr. Elliot began stopping by in the afternoons to check on me. Though I had my problems with the man, I found him pleasant enough company, and a good change from Dee. Not that I could complain about her, and how she continued to care for me. But even she got tired of my company some days. At those times, I was doubly glad to see Dr. Elliot, and enjoyed the games of chess we played together.  
  
One morning, I sat reading the Gotham Times. Sometime in the middle of the night, Dee had disappeared on some errand for the Triad. She came back shortly after I woke up, bringing me my morning coffee, and the papers. Afterward, she had disappeared again, and I could hear the sound of her talking to the tigers downstairs.  
  
On the front page of the Times was a picture of the Joker, and an article about his most recent murder spree. I gave it a once over before flipping to the business section. LexCorp was taking over yet another failing company in Gotham, having outbid WayenTech for the rights. I stopped in the middle of the article, transfixed by a picture of the new president of LexCorp.  
  
I knew that woman! I had seen her before! Where? Where had I seen her? Certainly it wasn't just cursory notice of her during LexCorp conferences. No, I had seen her elsewhere. And she had not been dressed in the expensively tailored business suits she now wore.  
  
"Arkham," I whispered.  
  
Now it was all coming back to me. I was even remembering the dream I had while I was under during surgery. Only it hadn't been a dream, but a memory of events that had happened. I had been sick that morning Joker was telling his tale. No one had believed him, and except for me, no one confessed that.  
  
Of course, I now knew that he had been telling the truth. I remembered the night the strange woman had come to sign the Joker out of Arkham. What had caught my attention was that she did not hold herself like a doctor in any way. Her mannerisms were far too refined to ever have held any job, especially one as a doctor to those of us in Arkham. No, she had far too much breeding and poise to be a mere doctor. She was something more.  
  
Talia Al Ghul was the name the Joker had given for her. And her father was Ra's Al Ghul, some sort of cult leader, whose name translated to "the Demon's head." Very powerful, very dangerous. There were rumors of the man floating around through the rogue grapevine. No one really took much of it seriously. For the most part, the man never contacted any of us, and we never had the need to contact him. Currently, Talia was going by the name Talia Head. It was simple enough to figure that she was keeping part of Daddy's name to create a whole new persona. She certainly had managed to land herself a cushy job with LexCorp.  
  
What really interested me was what the Joker had said happened. He claimed that he had been killed, and that Batman had put him into something called the Lazarus Pit, reviving him and healing his mortal wounds. While I wasn't certain of the existence of these pits, it would be worth looking into. To do that, I needed Dee's help.  
  
"Dee? Dee, would you come in here, please?!" I called, trying to contain my excitement.  
  
She came running in, flushed and out of breath. "What is it? What's wrong?" she asked, panicked.  
  
"I'm fine," I said, taking a hold of her hand as she began to stroke my face, and check me over. "There's something I need you to do for me. Hear me out on this before you comment."  
  
Over the course of the next hour, I told her the Joker's story. She interrupted to ask questions, sometimes wanting more detail than I could give.  
  
"Eddie, I know you don't want to die, and you're eager to find a way out of this. But can you really trust something that delusional maniac said?" she frowned, stroking my hand once I had finished.  
  
"I've known him long enough to know what he makes up, and what is real. This happened to him, Dee. I remember the night she came to get him. I remember hearing him talk about what happened when he returned to the asylum. That woman was too pretty, and too well bred to be a psychologist that would set foot in an asylum like Arkham."  
  
"Harley's pretty," she mumbled, straightening my blanket.  
  
"Pretty, perhaps. But she is not poised, and she could never carry herself the way this woman did. She seemed too much of an Aristocrat." I stared stubbornly out the window. My observations were right, and she would have to understand that sooner or later.  
  
After a long silence, she sighed and kissed my hand. "What would you have me do?"  
  
"I want you to go talk to her. Ask her for information. Offer to pay her whatever sum she wants. We'll find some way to pay her. Information like this will be expensive."  
  
"She'll ask why I want to know, if she even admits to the existence of the things."  
  
I turned back to the look out the window. "I know. And I'll trust that you'll share with her only what she needs to know. I leave it up to you."  
  
"I don't think I'll be able to get in to see her with an appointment."  
  
"So don't. Just go and do what you do best."   
  



	8. Meeting a Demon

  
  
Notes for this chapter may be found at my website by following the link on my author page. The notes will be listed in the fanfiction section, under _The Beast Within_ directory.  
  
Thank you,  
Query  
  


~ ~ ~

  
  
Thomas Elliot had become a regular at the Wynne household. Despite the rough start with the couple, he had found them to be rather pleasant company. Mr. Wynne made for pleasant conversation, and a very worthy opponent for the numerous games of chess the two played to pass time. Mrs. Wynne seemed pleased that she now had more than just her husband to cook for, and always had something in the oven, or on the stove to fill the empty belly of her husband and his doctor. Dr. Elliot was pleased with the home cooked meals he received, and always made a point to be on time for dinner when he would stop by.  
  
When he wasn't over there to play games, or eat, he was there to chat. Mr. Wynne was from Gotham City, and it was Dr. Elliot's hometown. That alone gave them something to talk about as they sat around, eating whatever cake or pastry Mrs. Wynne had made, and sipped coffee. Mr. Wynne seemed apprehensive about the topic of the city at first, but quickly warmed up to it when it was obvious that Dr. Elliot wished to speak of his childhood years.  
  
It was during one of these chats that Dr. Elliot confessed that he had lost his mother to cancer years earlier. His father had died in a car accident long before that. Mr. Wynne also learned that the Elliots had been very good friends of the famous Waynes. Thomas Elliot admitted that he had not spoken to his childhood friend, Bruce Wayne, in years. He did, however, tend to keep up with the playboy antics of his old friend.  
  
Both Dee and Eddie had come to appreciate the man for the information he could give them about cancer. Not only medically, but his own personal experience. Because of his willingness to share, the two were able to take preventative measures in keeping Eddie as healthy from other infections as possible.  
  
After a long day at the office, Dr. Elliot decided to stop by and see what sort of conversation he could have, as well as what sort of tasty meal he could get out of Mrs. Wynne. Humming, he strolled up the walk of the house the two had relocated to. Taking his hat off, he rang the bell, expecting to see Mrs. Wynne open the door. He had a cheeky smile on his face, and a barb on his tongue, as he knew her first reaction would be to tease him that he was at a private residence, and not a restaurant. The smile turned polite as the door opened to reveal a slight Chinese woman, instead of the usual housemistress.  
  
"I'm sorry to disturb you," he said. "I was just stopping by to check on Arthur. Is he home, please?"  
  
The woman smiled at him. "Yes, he is. He's in the den playing Mah Jong with my husband. Won't you please come in? My name is Chu Hua."  
  
"Thomas Elliot," the man said, offering his hand.  
  
Chu Hua gave his hand a delicate shake, and then motioned for him to follow her. He paused to hang his coat and hat on the rack near the front door. She led him into the den, and there, wrapped in a blanket, sipping a cup of tea, sat Mr. Wynne. In a chair opposite him, sat an athletically built Chinese man. Both turned and greeted the doctor with a smile when he entered. Dr. Elliot was not surprised to see his patient sitting up and playing a game. It was rare that the man did not have some sort of puzzle book, or travel sized game to keep himself amused at any time.  
  
"Tommy! Good to see you." He adjusted the blanket around his shoulders, and then took the proffered cup of tea from Chu Hua. "What brings you here this evening?"  
  
"I just stopped to say hello and see how you were doing. I don't see that woman of yours around today. Did she finally get smart and leave you?" he grinned.  
  
Mr. Wynne smiled. "She had some business to attend to out of town." Gesturing to the two Chinese, he continued. "She decided I needed to be babysat, so she had these two come over until she gets back. You've already met Chu Hua. This is her husband, Manchu, who happens to be Dee's best friend. Manchu, this is Thomas Elliot."  
  
"Ah, the doctor we have heard so much about. You are a very brave and patient man to put up with Arthur as a patient. The only one who is more disagreeable than him is his wife!" Manchu teased.  
  
"She is only disagreeable to you, my husband. But she has perfectly justifiable reasons," Chu Hua interrupted, giving her husband's long braid a teasing tug. "Will you stay for dinner, Doctor?"  
  
While he would normally stay, he did not feel like intruding on the man when he had company in town. "Not tonight, thank you. I really should be going. Arthur, are we still on for that rematch?"  
  
"Just as soon as you're ready to lose again," Mr. Wynne replied with a smile.  
  
Chuckling good naturedly, Dr. Elliot showed himself out.  
  


~ ~ ~

  
  
The Jade Tiger Triad provided me with all the information I needed to get into LexCorp Towers. They also managed to provide me with Talia Head's schedule for the day. The Metropolis branch of the Triad had offered me a job as well. As soon as I was through with Talia Head, I was to complete the job. In exchange, I was given a place to stay, as well as a small amount of money. As with any money I made lately, it all went to Eddie's medical bills and care.  
  
In order to gain access to the penthouse that was Talia's home, I had to keep an eye out for her personal maid. Every day the woman followed a set schedule, always returning home laden down with numerous parcels from her daily errands. This was my ticket into the penthouse. Using my ring, I shifted into the form of an Abyssinian cat. No one noticed the slight tawny form that padded quietly into the lobby from the street. No one noticed the cat as it patiently waited next to a potted fichus situated near the private penthouse elevator. Best of all, the maid didn't notice the extra weight in one of the bags from an expensive retail store.  
  
The ride up to the penthouse was uneventful. The maid hummed to herself, carefully straightening her hair on the ride. When the elevator came to a stop, she brought the bags in, setting them down once more as she removed her coat and neatly hung it in a closet. I took that moment to leave my hiding place in the bag, and scurry into the study following the directions I had been given.  
  
Taking a look around the room, I chose my hiding place. As I settled myself under the expansive desk, returning to human form, I looked at the painted portrait that hung over the fireplace. It was of a man dressed regally in a green cloak, edged with gold, and studded with jewels. He had a white streak in his otherwise black hair, and piercing eyes. He could only be one man: Ra's al Ghul. Shaking my head and chuckling to myself, I relaxed in my hiding place, leaning back against the cool mahogany of the desk. I shifted myself so that I had a view of the study door, and part of the hallway. Pulling out the snack I brought, I settled into waiting.  
  
"Later. I will have dinner later," Talia said, as she swept into the office alone, closing the doors firmly behind her.  
  
I watched as she stretched and stood in front of the fireplace. Her clothing was impeccable, her blouse white as virgin snow, and her deep burgundy skirt, tailored to compliment the curve of her hips, emphasizing her petite waist. Her black hair fell around her shoulders like a storm cloud. She stared up at the portrait of her father, sighing. With her attention diverted to the picture, I returned to the form of an Abyssinian, and padded out to a point a good six feet away from her. Out of immediate striking distance, I returned to human form, clearing my throat.  
  
The woman spun, immediately going into a defensive stance. "Who are you?" she asked after a moment of silence. Her eyes flicked, taking in my black outfit, and the hood I had dangling from my left hand.  
  
Spreading my arms, I turned in a circle. "I'm unarmed. I only came to talk, Ms. al Ghul."  
  
Talia's almond eyes narrowed. "How do you know me by this name? Did my father send you?"  
  
"No. I've never met your father. My name is Dee Lemma. Most people know me as Query, partner of Edward Nigma, the Riddler."  
  
"You are a foe of Batman's then. You are therefore not unarmed."  
  
I allowed a small smile. "No. Not quite unarmed. But I have no weapons. I wouldn't exactly say that Batman is a foe. Merely another player in the game of life." I didn't see the need to draw things out, and I was already getting nervous. Talia Head was well guarded by Team Luthor, and I had no wish to run into them. I had to get back to Eddie as soon as possible. "Eddie remembered your face from the night you came to Arkham to take the Joker. He only recently realized you were the same woman when he saw your picture in the paper."  
  
"That does not explain how you know my name," she replied shortly.  
  
I bowed apologetically, something I had learned from the Triad. Politeness and respect got you places where force could not. Talia didn't look like the kind who could be swayed with a threat. "The Joker likes to tell everyone stories. He told everyone at Arkham what happened after you took him."  
  
"The clown should learn to hold his tongue. He will be dealt with," came the hissing reply.  
  
With a shrug, I added, "We don't generally believe his stories. Especially the more outrageous ones."  
  
"Then why have you come?" She asked coolly. From her body language, and facial expression, I heard the unspoken question: And tell me why I shouldn't call security right now?  
  
"I came to find information on these Lazarus Pits the Joker spoke of. We're willing to pay generously for it."  
  
"What makes you think I have that sort of information, and that if I did, it would be for sale?" she asked without hesitation.  
  
"Because sometimes the Joker's stories are true. He said that the pit could bring a person back to life. Cure them. Joker said that you shot him, and he died. The pit revived him and healed his wounds. I'm willing to risk everything in order to find and use one of those pits, Ms. al Ghul."  
  
"You seek this information for your own use?"  
  
I shook my head, unable to keep the emotion out of my voice as I replied. "No. Not for me. For someone else."  
  
The softening of her voice caused a lump to rise in my throat. "Your beloved."  
  
"Yes. He's very, very sick," I replied, quickly casting my eyes to the carpet. Not knowing how he was doing at this minute worried me, and made me want to start crying in frustration at having to be away from him on this crazy chase. Had he eaten yet? Did he need me tonight? I touched the hard lump of the question mark shaped communit in my pocket Eddie had made for me. He had the twin. It was useless in Metropolis, but I had brought it anyway.  
  
"I have seen how your kind gets 'sick'. But it is not like the Detective to..."  
  
"Batman had nothing to do with this! He knows nothing of it!" I snapped.  
  
One of her perfectly manicured eyebrows lifted in interest, waiting for me to continue.  
  
"We left Gotham in secret over a month ago. We've been living in Philadelphia. If we had stayed in Gotham, it was possible that the doctors might not give Eddie the proper treatment."  
  
Talia waved me over to a seat near the fire. I hated that my voice had become panicked and emotional. But I couldn't help it. I tried to keep myself strong while I tended to Eddie, avoid the tears so that he didn't have to worry about me. He had too much on his mind. I accepted the seat, and took a couple of calming breaths.  
  
"He said that if you didn't believe me, or wanted to talk to him about it, you were welcome to come see us in Philadelphia." I pulled a card out of the top of my left tabby boot, handing it over. "Ms. al Ghul, Eddie isn't ready to die. I know no one is ever really ready, and everyone has a time when they have to go, but..." I paused, breathing deep once more. "I don't want to lose him. It's too soon!" I wanted to be sick at the very thought of seeing his lifeless body.  
  
"Then it is for your personal use," concluded Talia. She sat across from me in an identical chair, sitting so regally she made the simple high-backed leather chair appear to be a throne.  
  
I was out of any words to use. "Please. If the Lazarus can truly cure him, I will pay anything. Name your price."  
  
The woman shook her head, her dark hair swirling around her shoulders, sharply contrasting with the white of her silk blouse. "There is no price that can be set. Once a pit has been used, it can never be used again. There are consequences from using the Lazarus as well. And there is my father. He is the one who uses the pits. He is the one who collects the rare herbs and minerals that must be added in order to give the Lazarus potency."  
  
"But will it cure him?"  
  
"The Lazarus will cure everything. What is it that is killing him?" she asked out of curiosity.  
  
"He was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. The doctor said that with treatment, he might live six to eight months. He couldn't be certain of how long without the treatment." I waited a second before asking, "I... I can help your father gather some of the herbs and minerals. I have connections that might help him find all that he needs, in exchange for using the Lazarus."  
  
A smile appeared on her face, and she shook her head. "It isn't that simple." Standing, she walked to the middle of the room. "I will need to consider your request. I cannot answer you immediately, you understand."  
  
"Yes, I understand." I hadn't expected her to say yes immediately. But she hadn't said no, and that made me feel better. She had confirmed the existence of the pits, and their ability to cure. It was far more than I expected.  
  
"I will be in contact with you shortly. During that time, I would like you to realize that if I do grant your appeal, there will still be much suffering that you will go through before the Lazarus can be used."  
  
"I understand. And thank you for thinking this over." I stood to leave. "Should you allow Eddie to use the pit, I will be in your debt. I'm sure you have all the resources you need, legal or otherwise, but I would like to offer my abilities to you, should you wish to work outside your normal means."  
  
"What abilities do you have?" she asked.  
  
"I am a skilled fighter, I'm fluent in Chinese, I know how to safely work with explosives, and I can burgle with the best of them."  
  
"No cooking?" asked Talia with a note of amusement.  
  
"I cook as well. Nothing like what you would be used to being served, though."  
  
She nodded. "I have heard rumors that you have the ability to take on the form of felines. Is this true?"  
  
I hesitated. This wasn't part of what I was allowed to talk about. It was rumor, myth, on the streets. People assumed that it was said because of my fighting skills, and ability to disappear like a cat. But it could be the key to getting what Eddie and I wanted.  
  
"Yes. It's how I got into your home without being seen."  
  
"Demonstrate."  
  
Nodding, I shifted into the same Abyssinian that I had been using all night. She said nothing, nor did she react. I changed back.  
  
"Very well. As I said, I will be in touch." With a wave of her hand, she added, "Return to that cat form. I will take you out of here, but you must not change back until you are away from here. There are too many spies around me, and I do not wish to have my more shady associations known."  
  
I nodded my understanding, changing quickly. She scooped me up, and left the study. Throwing a coat around herself, she hid me in the folds. Letting the maid know that she was stepping out for a moment, she entered the elevator. Down in the garage, she set me down. Without a word, or glance, she turned and strolled back into the elevator, closing the doors.  
  


~ ~ ~

  
  
Father would be furious with her if he knew about the conversation that had just taken place. Had he been there, the woman would not have made it out of the building alive. Her lover would be dead just as quickly. That Talia was now considering the request would have infuriated him to no end. He was always trying to keep such a tight rein on her, and part of the reason she had taken the offer to run LexCorp was to show her father that she was more than he knew. Talia was quite aware that he had tried sneaking spies into her staff both at home and office. She had caught each, dismissing them and sending them back to her father.  
  
Just by talking to this woman, Talia was able to understand just how deeply the girl loved this criminal. There was no argument she could make against that. She, herself, was deeply in love with a man. Though she wasn't certain of the sincerity of Edward Nigma's feelings toward this woman, she knew that her Detective did not love her the way she did him. Every now and then, he showed what seemed to be a sign of affection, but these were brief and fleeting.  
  
Even knowing she didn't hold the Detective's heart, Talia loved him. He had the strength and determination she had come to admire in her father, but without the penchant for destruction. Love. What a fickle and strange master. She realized, of course, that most of her love for the Detective had been fueled with her father's insistence that he would be the heir to the al Ghul Empire. Not only that, but Batman would sire Talia's offspring.  
  
The longer she was away from both of those men, the more she realized her true feelings about each. She loved them both, admired them for their strength, both physical and mental. But she had come to realize the power each held over her. Father, always demanding absolute perfection and loyalty from her. Bruce, demanding perfection from himself; expecting nothing from her in any form. After all this time away, she realized that she hadn't really loved Bruce in the way her father wished her to. But she did love him.  
  
Like everything else in her life, Talia had blindly followed and believed her father's words. "You love the Detective. He is the only one for you. You will marry him," he had told her. So she loved. Blindly. Her mind fought against the idea. How could she love a man she didn't really know? Certainly, she knew all about him, but not one on one, in an intimate manner. There were men among her father's organization that she had loved more than she loved Bruce. She never dared speak of this to her father.  
  
However, now that she _was_ thinking about him, Talia found she still wished to love the Detective, but on her terms. That she now worked for his biggest rival in the business world did not help her case. All she could hope was that her independence from her father, and that she happened to be doing an excellent job in running LexCorp, would show Bruce that there was more to Talia al Ghul.  
  
Talia laughed derisively at herself. Was she telling herself the truth? Did she really still love the Detective, or had she listened to the lie for so long that she actually believed it to be truth? The thought of him made her pulse quicken, and a flush warm her cheeks. Perhaps her feelings toward him had really become love, beyond the mere blind love that her father wished.   
  



	9. Disasterous Dining

  
  
Notes for this chapter may be found at my website by following the link on my author page. The notes will be listed in the fanfiction section, under _The Beast Within_ directory.  
  
Thank you,  
Query  
  


~ ~ ~

  
  
A week passed. Then two. Dee was getting impatient, and had lost her temper with me at least a half dozen times. She would immediately apologize for her harsh words, and try to make up for her slip.  
  
For the most part, I paid little attention to those moments where she became angry with me. Most of the time it was over nothing, and I knew her short temper was because of how anxious she was becoming in waiting for Talia to contact us. I was also overly apprehensive at the amount of time this was all taking. This, coupled with the toll the radiation was taking on me, caused me to be just as short tempered at times.  
  
The difference was that Dee could go and burn her nervous energy on a job for the Triad. I barely had the energy to get downstairs anymore, spending most of my day napping in the window seat, listening to music. Often, I would awake to find Dee curled next to me. It was a comfort, and I enjoyed the company in those quiet times.  
  
Finally, a full month passed. I was undergoing chemotherapy as well, and the only thing it seemed to be doing to me was making me sick. Every strand of hair on my body fell out, leaving me looking far worse than before. I hated the sight of myself in the mirror as I toweled off from my shower. Dee did everything she could to keep my spirits up, still giving me the same attention she did before all of this, randomly giving me kisses, telling me I was handsome, and that she loved me.  
  
The chemo had other effects as well. My skin was almost the color of parchment, my hands and forearms were covered with little scars from the IV's used during chemo, as well as bruised from the constant blood tests. My nails were discolored, and I had to be careful, as they seemed to be getting brittle. The thing I was most constantly aware of was the smell. The chemotherapy drugs seemed to have been infused into my skin. No amount of scrubbing by Dee or myself could dislodge the odor that clung to me like a veil of spider webs.  
  
One of the things a cancer patient learns very quickly during chemotherapy is that, as thin a layer as it might seem, your body hair holds in a lot of heat. It wasn't long before I had Dee bringing in extra blankets to keep around the house. The weight of dragging them from room to room was too much, so I had her make certain a couple thick, warm blankets were kept each place I spent a lot of time. This also meant one in the bathroom, as the side effects from chemo made me nauseated, and I spent a good deal of time hanging my head over the toilet.  
  
Dee found amusement in my sudden bouts of cold. If I didn't have enough blankets, and I asked her to bring me another one, she would comply, in addition to partially shifting and wrapping her fur covered body around me. She would tickle my chin and chest with her tail. It always put a smile on my face, and when I smiled, she glowed, happy to see it.  
  
This was how we were the morning a black Rolls Royce pulled up to the back gate. We sat together in the window seat as she teased me with her tail, kissing my neck now and then.  
  
"Kitten, there's a car coming up to the back gate," I said, pushing her tail away from my nose.  
  
She changed back to human form, and looked down.  
  
"I'll go see what they want," she said, kissing my cheek, and then lips before untangling herself from me. "And I'll bring you more tea when I come back."  
  
I watched as she appeared on the path below. As she approached the gate, the driver's door opened, and a large man stepped out. I was glad to see she had tucked her bo staff in the back waistband of her pants. He walked up to the gate, pulling a piece of paper from his coat pocket. Dee accepted it, looking it over. The man nodded at something she asked him. He then turned, and walked back to the car. Dee watched him leave, and then turned her face up to my window. She was too far off for me to make out her expression.  
  


~ ~ ~

  
  
"Eddie, I don't have time for that right now!" she snapped at me. At the moment, she was making dinner, and was stressed that it wouldn't turn out right.  
  
Though I had only a fraction of the strength I used to, I took her by the shoulders, and gave her a little shake. "You need to calm down! Everything is going to be just perfect tonight, ok?" I wavered on my feet, and she immediately pushed me into a chair. "Sit with me for five minutes, please? You've been going full steam since that man left," I pleaded.  
  
With a sigh, she relented, pulling another chair close to me. I took her hand in mine, noting that it was so healthy and soft compared to mine. With imminent death hanging over my head, I started to appreciate every minute I was allowed to spend with her, even when we fought. I knew she felt the same.  
  
"Now take a deep breath and try to relax."  
  
"I can't, Eddie! What if she says no? What if she says yes, and it doesn't work?! I don't want to lose you! We haven't had enough time together!"  
  
"But the time we've had together has been mostly good. I'm just as worried as you are, but I've had to resign myself to the fact that she might very well say no, and that will be the end of it. As hard as it will be, you need to accept that this just might kill me."  
  
She trembled, convulsing as huge, silent tears poured from her eyes. Wiping at them with her sleeve, she began to curse them, demanding them to stop.  
  
"It's about time," I said, pulling her into my arms. "You've been holding that in since day one, all for my sake. Rather a stupid thing for you to do, as you would tell to me in the same situation. While I appreciate the effort, and why you've been holding this all in, you need to let this out. Just because I'm the sick one doesn't mean that you can't come to me when you need comfort. We both said we would go through this together. Every step of the way."  
  
She shook her head against my shoulder. "No. You're already doing so much in fighting. You don't need the added stress of having to worry about me."  
  
"Do you really think that I haven't been worried, knowing that you cry about me in the shower, or when you think I'm not able to hear you?" I laughed softly. "I can handle me, and you've been taking care of me. Why do you deny me the chance to take care of you when you obviously need a little something?"  
  
"I don't want you wasting your energy," she sobbed, still trying to control herself.  
  
"It's my energy. I'll spend it whatever way I see fit."  
  


~ ~ ~

  
  
Shortly after sunset, I went back down the garden path to the back gate. The black Rolls Royce was waiting, silent and dark. Once more, as I got close, the driver got out. This time, he stepped to the back passenger door, opening it, and handing out Talia Al Ghul.  
  
"Welcome, Ms. Al Ghul," I said, opening the gate for her.  
  
Talia gave a polite nod, a soft greeting, and said nothing more. I led her up the garden path, and through the back door. Taking her coat, I hung it on the coat rack next to the door.  
  
"Eddie's already in the dining room," I said, shooing back the tigers who had decided to come see who was coming to dinner.  
  
"Then we shall not keep him waiting," she said.  
  
Eddie was just putting the last of the glasses down when we entered. He had insisted on wearing one of his green silk suits, despite the fact that it no longer hung properly on his emaciated body. Still, I had to admit that even with his current appearance, and the still healing surgery site, he looked dapper.  
  
"Eddie, this is Talia Al Ghul. Ms. Al Ghul, Edward Nigma."  
  
"A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Al Ghul. Please, call me Eddie," he said, shaking her hand.  
  
"Eddie. You may call me Talia. You as well, Ms. Lemma."  
  
"Dee, please. If you two will just have a seat, I'll be right back with the soup."  
  
I quickly ladled the soup into the silver tureen I had found among the kitchen items, and placed the lid on it. From the dining room, I could hear Eddie opening the wine and pouring it.  
  
And then it happened.  
  
Just as I entered with the soup, Eddie's eyes rolled up into his head, and his legs gave out. With a scream, I dropped the hot soup, and rushed to where he convulsed on the floor. Taking his tie, I placed it across his teeth as a means of keeping his tongue down to prevent him from swallowing it while he rode out the seizure. He frothed at the mouth, and it was all I could do just to keep him from thrashing out of my arms and smashing his head on the hardwood floor.  
  
"It's ok, Tiger. Everything is going to be ok. Shh! Shh!" I whispered, rocking him back and forth in my arms when the most violent of the tremors had stopped.  
  
"Is there anything I can do?" Talia asked, standing over us.  
  
"No thank you. He just needs to ride this out, and rest," I replied, wiping away the foamed spittle around his mouth.  
  
I could smell it before I noticed it. His bladder and bowels had released. A wet stain was spreading over his groin. Once he returned to his senses, I knew he would be terribly embarrassed. At the door of the dining room I could see the tigers poking their heads around at the commotion. With a few quick clicks and whistles, I sent Rebus off to get the stretcher I had rigged together for just such an event. Talia insisted on helping me get him onto the litter, and up to the room, using the elevator.  
  
"Thank you, but I'll be fine from here. Please. I'll be back downstairs in a little while," I insisted.  
  
She nodded and left the room. By now, Eddie's seizure had ended, and he was becoming aware of his surroundings. He was exhausted, and found it hard to move. I helped him out of the suit, and washed him down with a warm washcloth. Just by the way he was making an effort to be silent, I knew that I was right, and that he was embarrassed by the latest betrayal of his body.  
  
"There you go, Tiger. Just rest now. I'll bring you some dinner in a bit, ok?" I said, tucking the blanket securely around him. I leaned over to kiss him, only to have him turn his face from me. "It'll be ok, Eddie. It wasn't your fault."  
  
He didn't answer, and refused to look at me. Sighing, I let him be. Eddie would remain moody for a while. As much as I hated to do this, I needed to end this all too short dinner and get Talia out of the house so I could deal with Eddie and his mood.  
  
When I returned to the dining room, I found the tigers had cleaned the soup up for me. There wasn't a trace of any wontons, or meatballs anywhere. Nor Talia. I picked up the tureen, and went into the kitchen. She was sitting at the kitchen table with a bowl of soup, and a plate of stirfry, rice, and potstickers.  
  
"So you can cook. This is very good. I haven't had Chinese food like this since I was last in China."  
  
"Thank you." I paused, putting a plate together for Eddie. "Look, I know you came a long way to talk to us tonight, but as you can see, it didn't turn out so well. I really hate to ask, but would you be able to come back another time? Eddie's really embarrassed about this, and he won't even talk to me."  
  
Talia shook her head. "I came all the way from Metropolis to speak with you two, and he _will_ see me. I will talk while you feed him, yes?"  
  
I nodded, knowing that this was probably a really bad move. He was already miserable, and I couldn't read Talia to figure out if she was bringing us good or bad news. She followed me up the stairs, carrying the wine Eddie had poured for her.  
  
"Just give me a minute, ok?" I left Talia outside of the room to see if Eddie had calmed down a little. He was still grumpy, and unwilling to see her. The problem was that he was unable to get out of bed and get far enough. So I brought Talia in.  
  
"Hello, Mr. Nigma. I am Talia Al Ghul, daughter of Ra's Al Ghul. It is a pleasure to meet you," she said, extending her hand. She definitely had breeding. What she was now doing was not something that was often taught in American culture anymore. She was being diplomatic, willing to act as if this was the first time they had met.  
  
"Please, call me Eddie," he said, a look of knowing on his face. Of course he knew what she was doing. He had seen me do the same thing a million times when he sent me to deal with people, or when I was dealing with the Triad.  
  
"Then you may call me Talia. I will be brief, Eddie, seeing as you are not feeling well this evening." She stood at the end of the bed, her wine glass delicately balanced in her fingers. As she spoke, she rolled the stem between her fingers. "As you know, your concerned mate, Dee, approached me a month back. She told me that you were requesting information that has been kept secret for thousands of years. I could not answer her question the day she came to me. For me to do so would put all of us at risk, and caused more trouble than it would have solved.  
  
"When she came to me, I had to wonder just why I should allow a person like you access to such secrets and power. I know of your struggles against Batman, and I know that you exist to break the law and cause chaos." She paused, taking a sip of her wine.  
  
"However, I also know that, unlike the Joker, you have some respect for human life. Maybe you don't care about humans, but you do not make it a point to kill and physically harm them. Granted, you steal from them, making them feel insecure, but they live to see another day, and might even appreciate living more.  
  
"I did not base my decision on your actions, however. My decision was based on you. Would it surprise you to learn that I have had you watched for the past month?"  
  
I looked at Eddie, who gazed flatly at me. Shaking my head, I said no, as I offered him another potsticker. He pushed it away, and I set the plate aside. Both of us had seen people trailing us from afar, but did nothing about it, putting it down to paranoia.  
  
"It is not everyday that I meet someone who, despite known criminal actions and connections, is as human as you are. The reports that came back to me on your daily activities told me how you were fighting this disease with every fiber of your being, regardless of the diagnosis. I was curious as to if this woman was telling me the truth about you. At first I didn't believe that you being who you were, with your reputation, could truly love, and appreciate a woman. But all of the reports I received told of how you both took care of each other, making certain that the other was comfortable. You return each other's affections equally. That is rare today.  
  
"Your humanity is what led me to the decision. I will give you the information." She held up a hand to quell our reactions. "However, you must realize that what I tell you will cause you grief, and put you at risk of my father's assassins."  
  
"I'm willing to risk that," Eddie said, speaking for the first time since his seizure. He took my hand, squeezing it as he looked at me.  
  
"I'm willing as well. Tell us what we need to do, and how to repay you."  
  
Talia shook her head. "When we first talked, I told you there was no price for the use of a Lazarus Pit. They are far to valuable to have a sum of money placed on them. I know you wish to settle somehow, and in the future, I may just call in the debt."  
  
She put her wine down and sat on the edge of the bed.  
  
"Now you must listen to me, and listen carefully. Take notes, for once I give you the information, it will be up to you to get to the pit and prepare it."   
  



	10. Final Diagnosis

  
  
Notes for this chapter may be found at my website by following the link on my author page. The notes will be listed in the fanfiction section, under _The Beast Within_ directory.  
  
Thank you,  
Query  
  


~ ~ ~

  
  
A few days after Talia's visit, Dr. Elliot returned to the house, bringing with him the results of the latest MRI and CT scan. Earlier that day Arthur had undergone another round of chemo. Knowing that his patient was awaiting the findings, he decided to bring them over after work. Besides, he wanted to talk to the couple face to face, rather than over the phone.  
  
"Tommy, right on time for dinner, as usual," teased Dee as she let him in. "Arthur's in the living room. We're in the middle of a game of Scrabble, so feel free to interrupt. I swear that man has memorized every dictionary out there."  
  
"He knows his words." Elliot paused just inside the door. "Delilah, I didn't come for dinner tonight. I need to speak with you both."  
  
"Of course."  
  
She led him into the living room, where Arthur was busy pushing around his Scrabble letters on the tabletop. As the doctor entered, he turned them over, and leaned back in his chair.  
  
"I told you it would be Tommy. He probably smelled the chicken and dumplings from his office. You'll forgive me if I don't get up?"  
  
"Certainly, Arthur. I was just telling Dee that this wasn't really a social call, though dinner smells wonderful."  
  
"Thank you, Tommy," she said as she perched herself on the right arm of Arthur's chair. She draped an arm around him.  
  
"What have you come to tell us then?" Arthur asked.  
  
"I received the test results this afternoon. Arthur, they aren't good. The films show the cancer has returned, as well as spread. Not only is it in your brain, but its now in your lungs and liver. At the rate it's growing, even with treatment, I can't assure you more than two or three months."  
  
"So I just wasted three hours in an infusion center, that could have been spent doing something better."  
  
"The treatments could still..."  
  
"Damn the treatments!" shouted Arthur, pounding the vacant armrest. "Do you think I'm going to waste what time I have left too sick to move because of the chemo and radiation? Why shouldn't I enjoy what time I have and do a bit of traveling? Truthfully, Dr. Elliot, do you think that by continuing treatment I will beat this and go into remission?"  
  
He had asked for a doctor's opinion, not a friend's opinion. Dr. Elliot looked sad for a moment before a stoic veil settled on his features. "No, Arthur. If anything, the treatments will simply slow the growth of the tumors. They will continue to spread." He paused, not daring to look at Dee, afraid of how she was reacting. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Sorry? Are you the one who gave me this cancer? Of course not. You haven't got anything to be sorry about, Tommy."  
  
"Either way, I am sorry that you had to go through this. I'll leave you two alone now. I'm sure you have some plans to make. I'll let the other doctors know that you're ending treatment."  
  
"Wait, Tommy," Dee said. She stood and put a hand on his arm. "Have dinner with us. I made enough just in case you were coming. Please. Have dinner with us?" she asked.  
  
He was surprised to see that she didn't look angry, or upset at the news he had brought. Well, the two had had time to come to terms with the inevitable. Accepting the invitation, he sat in a seat opposite of Arthur, while Delilah went to fill soup bowls.  
  


~ ~ ~

  
  
Three weeks after Dr. Elliot had given us the news, we packed our bags and were leaving Philadelphia. We were, in fact, leaving the United States. I had chartered a plane that would take Dee, the tigers, and me to northeastern China, in the Manchurian region. The area had been chosen because of Dee's ability to speak Chinese. With her, I wouldn't be in need of any other translator. At Talia's insistence, four members of her personal guard, gleaned from her father's followers, would escort us to the pit and prepare it. Talia assured us we could trust them. It wasn't as if we had a choice in the matter.  
  
It was Dee's decision to bring the tigers. Talia had told us that the fewer people who knew where we were going, and what we were doing, the better. The tigers would be our form of pack animal, as well as protection, should Talia's people turn out to be not so trustworthy. The tigers were already used to carrying equipment into jobs, so this would be normal for them. In order to reach the pit, it would be at least a four-day walk.  
  
"We're almost there," Dee assured me, as our plane winged its way north toward the town of Wudaogou, located in the Xiao Hinggan Ling, or Lesser Hinggan Mountains. "The pilot said there's a landing field, but that it's going to be a bit of a rough landing."  
  
"Then you'd better bring me another pillow or two."  
  
She laughed, doing as I asked. While she constantly swore to me that I looked good to her, she found my recent need for extra cushioning amusing. All of my bones were beginning to stick out, leaving me a mass of sharp angles. Too often I found myself unable to eat, nauseated still by the chemo drugs that were working out of my system, as well as the cancer that was invading my system.  
  
"There you go, Skeleton Man," she said, tucking a small pillow on either side of my hips. She then helped me raise my seat and get ready to land.  
  
The landing wasn't as bad as we expected, but I was thankful for the pillows. I began to wonder exactly how I was going to handle the trip to the pit on the back of a horse.  
  
Dee and I left the tigers behind in the plane as we headed into town to purchase our supplies, leaving the men behind with the airplane. I insisted on coming along, just so that I could get out and walk. We quickly found someone more than willing to supply us with five stout Mongoloid horses. I watched as she argued in Chinese with the man for a while. Finally, he nodded, and turned to go around the back of his barn. She looked at me and smiled, giving me a thumbs up.  
  
"What's going on?" I asked.  
  
"You won't have to ride. Mr. Li said he has a wagon that he takes on the roads when he goes into the mountains. It isn't big, but he said he'd sell it to us, after I told him that you couldn't possibly ride one of the horses. It's got a hitch for one of the horses, so we'll divvy the supplies between a couple of the other horses so you can ride. The tigers can carry light packs."  
  
I was pleased with this, though my happiness waned slightly when I saw the rough cart. Stretching to my full length would be impossible. Still, it would be more comfortable for me than sitting in the hard saddle that he brought out as well.  
  
Before long, Dee had us supplied with food, extra blankets, pillows, and saddle bags for the horses. Though my appetite had diminished greatly, I looked at her choices with a cautious eye. Much of the food was dried or preserved somehow. Either the tigers or her would hunt fresh meat when we wanted it, a benefit of her being able to shape shift into a feline. She promised me that everything, including the tiny, whole dried fish, were edible. To prove her point, she popped a couple into her mouth, head, bones, eyes, and all, and then offered me one.  
  
"They're crunchy, like a chip."  
  
I took it, and with a deep breath, put it in my mouth. Though it had a pungent fish taste to it, it really wasn't too bad. Of course, my palate wasn't exactly what it had been before the chemo, the drugs having killed off many of my taste buds. Only strong flavors really got through now.  
  
We stayed the night in the plane, making certain that everything was packed and ready to go early the next morning.  
  
The first day's journey was rougher than I expected. In the end, Dee had to stop and rearrange the blankets and pillows, making certain that they were cushioning me everywhere. She then gave me a shot that slipped me into semi-consciousness, making the trip easier on me. I lay there with my eyes closed, listening to the crunch of the dirt under the wheels, the chuffling of the tigers, and the plod of the horses' hooves along the road. Dee walked most of the way, holding the reins of the wagon horse, leaving the men to follow, trusting only the tigers to scout ahead for danger.  
  
At night, the temperature dropped so steeply, I was left shivering, even under all the blankets. Under the cart, the tigers huddled, bumping the bottom every now and then. Once she had fed me, and secured everything for the night, Dee joined me, holding me to share her body heat. We barely spoke, and she was quickly asleep, leaving me to the long hours of the night that bothered me most.  
  
It was in those hours I considered my own mortality. We weren't certain this would work, even if Talia had given us the information. I did the cliché thing, and looked back on my life. I wondered what death would be like. When I forced myself off that train of thought, I found myself considering the one riddle I had always wanted to solve, but never gave too much serious thought to. But now, like my cancer, it gnawed at my brain.  
  
Who, exactly, was Batman?   
  



	11. Death Rattle

  
  
Notes for this chapter may be found at my website by following the link on my author page. The notes will be listed in the fanfiction section, under _The Beast Within_ directory.  
  
Thank you,  
Query  
  
  
  
The trip to the fortress where the Lazarus Pit lay had become Dee's worst nightmare. What should have taken them four days had stretched into six. The first night out in the elements had left Eddie with a sore throat and a rapidly increasing cough. The party had to stop frequently during the day so he could be checked on, given water, and to rearrange the many covers and clothing that padded the wagon and kept him warm.  
  
Every bump and jar of the wagon on the rough road made the trip all the more miserable for Eddie. He groaned in pain, and begged Dee to give him more and more morphine. She refused, however, knowing that anything more than what she was already giving him could send him into a coma. Dee heard the men grumbled at the constant delays during one of the stops. After a few choice words and threats from her, they apologized and kept their comments to themselves.  
  
On the sixth day they found themselves in a large clearing, surrounded on two sides by towering Korean pines. The needles from the trees made a carpet in the clearing over which the wagon moved silently. The fortress itself was nothing quite so bold as it sounded. The opening was a rough wooden door, set far back inside a cave. In brackets along the wall were torches. One of the men took up a torch, lighting it. He headed further into the fortress, lighting torches as he went.  
  
"We're here, Eddie," Dee whispered to him as he lay on the litter two of the other men carried. The fourth man remained with the animals and supplies.  
  
He opened his mouth to speak, but the effort was too much for him. Closing his eyes as Dee's cool fingers stroked his fevered forehead, he slipped back into sleep.  
  
"Mistress al Ghul said we were to use her apartments while here. Please take him there. I'll be along in a moment to settle him in bed."  
  
"Yes, Mistress," the men said, giving a slight nod before heading off.  
  
Back out at the wagon, Dee picked up a bag of Eddie's belongings, along with the heavy medical kit she needed. As she headed back down the hall, she took the fortress in. Though the place had been carved into the bedrock, it was warm and dry, heated by natural thermal vents. Talia had chosen this spot for the comfort, as well as the fact that it would be unguarded, kept safe by its remote location. Her father's minions made routine checks of all the pit sites, reporting anything unusual. Talia knew the schedule, and knew that it the place had recently been inspected. This would buy the two time to use the pit and be gone before Talia's father was aware of the violation.  
  
_Everything she's promised so far has been done,_ Dee thought as she pushed the heavy door to Talia's apartments open. "Thank you for bringing him in. I can handle things from here," she said to the two men who stood waiting for orders. "If you could just bring in the rest of the supplies, it would be a great help."  
  
"Yes, Mistress," the men said in unison. It gave Dee a headache that they responded in such a manner. Still, she knew a little bit about being taught to maintain certain traditions. This happened to be how these men were trained.  
  
"Once that's done, I won't need any help until it's time. Feel free to do what you want."  
  
This time the response was simply a nod of the head, and murmured gratitude at her generosity.  
  
Dee walked through the alcove to the bedroom where Eddie now lay as the door closed behind the men. On a nearby chair, she placed the bags, flipping the medical kit open. From it she took a stethoscope warming the end in her hands as she stood over Eddie. She frowned at the sickly tinge of his skin, noting the fine sheen of sweat on his face. His breathing was shallow and labored, which left her fretting even more. She held her composure though as she listened to his lungs.  
  
"Please, no!" she mumbled, biting back a sob.  
  
His lungs were filling with fluid, a sure sign that his cough had turned into pneumonia in the short time it had taken them to travel to the fortress. Though the trip had been his idea, she blamed herself for his current condition. All she could do now was make him as comfortable as possible.  
  
With effort, she forced herself to go in search of water so she could at least give him a sponge bath. He always felt better when he was clean, and washing away the dust of traveling would be a good start toward making him comfortable.  
  
After she had taken care of him, cleaning and feeding him, she went for a walk through the fortress, keeping to the areas Talia had specified. Dee found herself in the chamber where the Lazarus Pit was. Shelves had been carved into one of the walls. Glass jars and bottles lined the shelves, each filled with roots, minerals, and liquids. She couldn't read the writing on the labels, but was familiar with a few from the instructions Talia had given her.  
  
Strolling over to the pit itself, she sat on the edge, looking into the clear water that trickled into it by way of a stone duct.  
  
"So you're Eddie's hope," she said softly. A sudden chill ran through her, causing goosebumps to break out on her exposed skin. Dee furiously hugged herself, rubbing her arms to rid herself of the cold.  
  
Dee hurried out of the chamber, her soft footfalls the only other noise, save the steady drip of water into the pit.  
  
  
  
Over the next week, she watched him slowly dying in front of her eyes. Since he was no longer getting any treatment, the cancer was taking over at an alarming rate. Without warning, he would be hit with a seizure. She now had to constantly watch and take care of him. Too often she got little or no sleep at all during the night, and because of the seizures, she could no longer share the bed with him. Instead, she slept on a chair next to the bed. All she could do was watch him as he slipped in and out of consciousness.  
  
Taking care of him wore her down. She took little time to make certain that she had anything to eat, intent only on his needs. The men who had accompanied them to the pits kept their distance, waiting patiently for when they were needed. They watched passively as the woman hurried back and forth, never once asking them to lend a hand.  
  
The three tigers had maintained their distance as well. Keeping her in their sight and checking on her was all they attempted, unless she specifically called to one of them. Often enough, one would come to lay its great head in her lap as she watched her lover sleep. Dee would absently scratch them behind the ears, or between their eyes, as an automatic response. The action, however, did calm and ease her in her worst moments.  
  
"Dee?" Eddie croaked after days of silence.  
  
"I'm here, Tiger!" She was quickly on her knees at the edge of the bed, grasping his clammy hand in hers. His skin was so cold!  
  
He gave a nod, licking his chapped lips. His eyes flicked about, focusing on hers for a moment before flicking away involuntarily.  
  
"Tiger? Stay with me!" she pleaded as his eyes slid closed again. She climbed into the bed, settling herself behind him as she cradled him in her arms. Petting his head, she rocked him, pressing her lips to his temple.  
  
Eddie's eyes flicked open once more, and his lips moved as he tried to speak. All that came out was a sigh of air. He trembled violently for a second. At first she thought it was the beginning of another seizure, but it subsided quickly. He took in as deep a breath as possible using what energy he had to lift his right hand, reaching up for the hand she had placed over his heart. Dee took his hand, gripping it as tightly as she dared. Tears rolled down her cheeks as he gave her hand a feeble squeeze.  
  
"I love you, Eddie," she whispered into his ear.  
  
Another squeeze and deep breath was his response.  
  
Then it came. As he exhaled, his breath rattled in his throat. He took another breath, this time much more shallow than the last. His grip on her hand increased for a moment as the air hissed out of his lungs. Then he was still, his hand falling from Dee's into his lap.  
  
A soft moan came out of her, followed by repeated denial that he had taken his last breath. Holding him all the tighter, she rocked faster, the tears overwhelming her. Across the room, the tigers gave odd grumbling calls of mourning.  
  
Edward Nigma, the Riddler, was dead.   
  



	12. Memory Snap

  
  
Notes for this chapter may be found at my website by following the link on my author page. The notes will be listed in the fanfiction section, under _The Beast Within_ directory.  
  
Thank you,  
Query  
  
  
  
I wasn't certain how long I cried with the keen of the tigers ringing in my ears, as I held him in my arms. Tangram was the one to rouse me out of my gloom, chuffling at me, and nudging my side with his nose. For all that I knew I had to get Eddie to the Pit, I didn't want to let him go. What if it didn't work? What if...?  
  
No, I couldn't let myself settle on that train of thought. I had work to do, and it wasn't going to get done with me weeping. There would be time enough for that if the Lazarus didn't work. Instead, I dried my eyes with the corner of the sheet and shifted Eddie's body to the side. Stripping his clothes, I then cleaned his body with a pan of warm water. Lying there, he looked so peaceful, as if he were simple in a deep sleep. After I had finished, I wrapped a clean sheet around him, and went to get the men to take him down to the pit.  
  


  


  
My thoughts swam in many directions as the darkness closed on me. I thought of Dee, hearing her laughter, seeing her face lit up with a smile, and felt her warm body pressed against me. My nostrils filled with the scent of her peach oil perfume, and I could feel her soft lips on mine. But when I reached for her, she seemed to melt away, replaced by other thoughts and memories.  
  
Batman.  
  
Out of everyone I had known throughout my life, he bubbled to the top pushing Dee out of my mind. I somehow felt as if I were betraying her when thoughts of Batman would push thoughts of her back down into the miasma of memory. With his overpowering presence, my mind returned to the riddle of who he was under that mask, and I ran through what I knew of him.  
  
Batman had to have a backer to pay for everything. He certainly didn't steal to get the money for his costumes and gadgets, and he most definitely didn't hold fundraisers. He was relatively young, well trained, and well traveled. Due to his annoying ability to suddenly appear at high society gatherings, I ruled it down to those attending, including servants.  
  
There was also the matter of the Robins. Sons? Younger brothers? There had been three to count. The first was now terrorizing Blüdhaven as Nightwing. Every now and then, he'd return to Gotham. No one was certain what happened to the second, though, as always, there were rumors. The most popular was the one that the Joker had killed the boy, this popularized by the Joker himself. Having found out the Lazarus Pits existed made me consider the validity of the Joker's claim. And now there was Robin number three. This one, even at his young age, seemed to be more independent, often teaming up with heroes known to be on the Batman's black list: the Huntress and the Spoiler.  
  
Now any rogue worth his salt knew of Hugo Strange's idea that Batman was indeed Bruce Wayne, international jet setting, billionaire playboy. No one took him seriously, as this was the same man with a hungry passion for mannequins. He would dress them, talk to them, and lavish attention on them. We all shuddered at the thought that he must also lavish affection on them. While I might not be one of the most respected rogues, at least I wasn't a laughing stock Hugo Strange was. Still, as I turned things over in my mind, I found that I couldn't cross Bruce Wayne off my list of suspects. In fact, the more I considered it, the faster he moved to the very top of my list.  
  
In my mind, I heard the snap of the final piece falling into place of this jigsaw puzzle named Batman. To be certain, I checked over the facts that anyone who took the time to do a bit of research could find out.  
  
Bruce Wayne appeared to be the same age as Batman. Plus, he had the wealth of the Wayne fortune, as well as access to some of the finest research labs in the world.  
  
He had suffered a traumatic loss as a child when his parents were gunned down in what was now known as Crime Alley.  
  
Batman always seemed to appear when Wayne was present, with Wayne disappearing for long stretches of time. Though, if asked, the socialites would say that he was cowering under a table like the rest of them.  
  
I had robbed Wayne a few times at social functions, before Batman appeared. Each time, there seemed to be something in his eyes that betrayed his foppish society appearance. Those eyes did not belong to a fop. When I had been face to face with him, I had also noticed faded scars on his face that I knew had come from run-ins with either me or anther member of the rogues gallery.  
  
The first Robin had appeared soon after Wayne took in that circus boy, Richard Grayson, when the boy's parents had been killed in a trapeze accident. When the boy moved off to go to college at Hudson University, Robin had appeared there, and then in New York City with the Teen Titans. Dick Grayson was a resident of the city at the time. He had to be Nightwing, considering the fact that Robin had exchanged his tights for those of Nightwing's, and then Nightwing and Grayson appearing in Blüdhaven at the same time.  
  
The second Robin appeared after Wayne took in a street boy named Jason Todd. That same Robin disappeared after Jason Todd had been murdered abroad. It had been a while before another Robin appeared.  
  
When the third Robin appeared, Wayne, it seemed, had befriended the young boy of a neighbor. Once more, shortly after this, a third Robin appeared with a very updated costume. At the same time the boy would disappear from the city, Robin would show up in some very strange places. Lately, however, the boy seemed to be gaining independence, much like the first Robin.  
  
Many other details welled up to the surface, giving my guess a sturdy foundation on which to stand. No matter how much I considered other candidates, Wayne was the only one to fit the theory. Damn Strange for being correct! I would, of course, never mention to the man that he was correct. That would simply inflate his ego, and convince him that the two of us should spend time together as we were of like minds. I shuddered at the mere thought!  
  
Wait. I _had_ shuddered. And I felt it! I also felt pleasantly warm. There was no sign of a headache, yet I felt as if I were floating in a warm bath, or on a very warm breeze. I prepared to sit up, taking in a deep breath.   
  



	13. Right or Wrong

  
  
Notes for this chapter may be found at my website by following the link on my author page. The notes will be listed in the fanfiction section, under _The Beast Within_ directory.  
  
Thank you,  
Query  
  
  
  
How long was this going to take before we knew if it worked? I could see him, floating just below the surface, still looking peaceful and calm. Along with the four men and the tigers, I waited for Eddie to emerge from the Pit. Talia had warned that when person came out of the Pit, he or she was taken with temporary insanity. The person seemed to gain superhuman strength, and the desire for violence. Thus, we waited around, prepared to subdue Eddie until the insanity wore off.  
  
"Is it supposed to do that?" I asked anxiously as the water, now viscous from the additives, began to boil and steam.  
  
The men remained silent, eyes intent on the roiling surface of the water. The violently churning surface quickly obscured Eddie's entire body, and I grew even more anxious as the seconds crawled by, feeling like hours. I chewed my lower lip, trying to look past the bubbles breaking on the surface, eager to pull him out, but afraid to reach in for him.  
  
Without warning, Eddie sat up, coughing and gasping for breath. The torchlight in the chamber made his skin glow as the water sheeted off his upper body. He shook violently, eyes wide as he looked first at his hands, and then around the chamber. Powerless to do anything else at the moment, I stared at him, looking him up and down. As he looked around, I noticed also that all of his scars from surgery were healed, leaving skin that would have been smooth had his head not been covered in a fine bristle of hair.  
  
"Wha- what ha- happened?" he stammered, staring at me. "Where am I?"  
  
I was in pure shock, unable to do anything other than continue to stare at him. Only an hour ago, he had died in my arms. I had felt his last breath as it left his body, felt the warmth leave his skin. Yet here he was, sitting up, talking! Was I dreaming? Had I passed out from the anticipation?  
  
The nudging of the tigers brought me around. All three had gathered around me, gently pushing me to the edge of the Pit. Eddie didn't appear to have gone insane from the submersion in the Lazarus, however I wasn't going to chance that he might not strike out the moment I was close. I knew how he moved in fighting, and I was certain that I could counter him should he decide I was a threat.  
  
"You're going to be ok, Eddie," I began, tentatively reaching out to touch his face when he still hadn't moved.  
  
Talia had said that the Lazarus Pit would cause Eddie to go insane and become violent. From how he was acting, Eddie had not gone insane. Instead, he pressed my hand flat against his face, eyes going wider than before, seemingly on the verge of tears. He looked up at me, pleadingly, silently begging me for an explanation. No, if anything, madness had left him.  
  
"Leave us," I ordered to the men.  
  
"Mistress?" one said, uncertain if he should obey.  
  
"I said leave!" I snarled, snapping my head to glare at the four who were still waiting for Eddie to lash out.  
  
"Yes, Mistress," the four said, bowing with their fists over their hearts. They left quickly and silently.  
  
"Eddie, it's ok. I'm here," I told him. "Let's get you out of there and dried off, ok?"  
  
He nodded, seemingly numb from the experience, and still somewhat disoriented. As he shakily climbed out of the Pit, I noticed that his body no longer seemed as gangly as it had when he went in. By some miracle, he had fleshed out, and the darkness of hair sprinkled his chest. He sat on a soft towel placed on the rim of the Pit, allowing me to dry him off. The muscles that had begun to atrophy were once more firm.  
  
"I was dead," he said tonelessly as I helped him dress. He tugged the shirt I handed him over his head as I turned to get him a sweater.  
  
"Hush now, Eddie. You need to save your strength." I patted his chest as he stood now, looking down at me. His eyes seemed different. When I looked into his eyes, there was a certain something missing.  
  
"I'm fine, Dee," he said. "I don't believe I've ever felt better in my life." He scrubbed a hand over his scalp, cringing at the bristle of hair that met him. I handed him a soft, warm wool cap, which he pulled on after once more touching the new growth of hair.  
  
"I don't believe you. Something is bothering you, Edward Nigma, so come out and say it," I told him firmly.  
  
He sighed heavily, staring into the now still water of the Pit. "I've wasted my life. I could've been rich and doing practically nothing. Living my life at ease, like that fop, Wayne."  
  
"You're nothing like that man, Eddie. Besides, you'd get bored doing something like that," I replied, bending over to collect up the sheet that had wrapped his dead body, along with the towels. Eddie had gone completely silent, and I turned to look at him. "Eddie? What is it?"  
  
His eyes remained locked on the water, and he let silence fall in the chamber, broken only by the steady drip of water into the Lazarus Pit. "Everything we did, Dee. The stealing, the violence, the destruction... The killing that you do. Was that really what I did? Did I really enjoy that?"  
  
I looked questioningly at him. Was he joking? The look in his eyes, the tone of his voice, and the defeated slump of his shoulders told me otherwise.  
  
"Tiger, that's what we do. We're in it for the game, the challenge. That's how it's always been. You come up with a plan, make out your riddles, we send them off to Batman, and see if he can solve them before we finish and win the game."  
  
"But the killing..."  
  
"That's me, not you. So don't even worry about it," I said distractedly. Most of that was for the Triad anyway. Ever since I had gotten together with Eddie, I had curbed the urge to kill, and even found that I did value humans; though I maintained that I despised the lot of them. Sure, Eddie had killed, but he had never been the type to just walk up to someone and kill them for no reason. That was never his way. If it fit into his plans, or couldn't be avoided, that's when he killed. He would still work for hours to get around killing, but if it were justifiable, he would live with it.  
  
"I think I know who he is," he said cryptically.  
  
I raised an eyebrow. "'He'?"  
  
"Yes. We need to... Where are we?"  
  
"You don't remember?"  
  
"I remember we were on a plane to China. But after that, it's all a blur. How long have we been here?" Before I could answer, he waved me off, scratching his head through the cap. "I want to go home. Now."  
  
Purposely, I ignored his wish to leave. "We've been here for about two weeks now." Tossing the sheet and towels into a basket I had brought, I gave him a gentle shove with my elbow. "Let's get you back to the room and get a meal in you. You're probably hungry."  
  
He looked at me with a trace of frustration on his face. It slowly melted off his face. "I am hungry." The tone in his voice suggested hunger of more than the stomach sort. His eyes said there was more than just food on his mind as he watched me lift the wicker basket and hook a hand through his arm.  
  
  
  
The confusion that continued to hang on me like a stifling blanket in humid summer heat made me feel angry and frustrated. Many times, as she shoved food at me, urging me to eat, all the while pawing and cooing at me, I wanted to tell her to back off and let me be. Every time one of those thoughts began to form, the blanket smothered it down, nearly taking me with it. At the same time, I was grateful for her attentions. I felt as if I hadn't seen her in years, and her arms draped around my neck, petting my chest as I ate, made me feel complete. Dee didn't force me to talk, and kept mostly silent herself, for which I was thankful as my mind was filled with conflicting thoughts and ideas.  
  
My mind swirled with the things I had done in the past, including the way I had sometimes treated her. Oddly enough, I knew that the times I had played mean tricks on her, Dee still loved me, and, in a way, even enjoyed the fights those tricks had caused. My fingers itched at the urge to play one on her now. She'd do pretty much anything I asked of her, even things she didn't enjoy doing. There were limits, and I knew them. Oh, but it was tempting!  
  
More tempting was the plan that had begun to take form in my head. I had to confirm my suspicions first, of course, but that didn't stop me from jotting mental notes should those notions prove true. I could bring total and complete ruin to Gotham's favorite son. Immediately, I knew I couldn't possibly do this alone. Others would have to be brought in, traps laid. I would require a great deal of money. Money that I didn't currently have, if I wanted to consider pulling this off...  
  
No! No, these thoughts, they were wrong. I should be contemplating what to do with my life when I returned to Gotham. Perhaps I shouldn't return to Gotham, however. It was filled with my past, and I now knew that my actions were not something a man of my intellect should do. On my own, I could put my mind to much better use. With my skills and ingenuity, I could build my own personal empire in no time at all. Dee and I could live comfortably, never worrying about the law, or ending up in the hospital or worse after a day's work.  
  
But where would the fun be? Sure I'd have safety, security. But at what cost? Already, the thought that she would be forcing me to stay here for a few more days was boring me. The solitude made for ideal planning conditions, however there was no way I could do the research I needed by sitting here, holed up in some little place in China that wasn't even on the map! At least in Gotham, I could execute some minor heists, which would help me gather money. There were also those of stature who would pay for my services in stealing things for them. Corrupt city officials and the wealthy who would hire my sort to do the dirty work they wouldn't, or couldn't.  
  
In frustration, I once more pushed the thoughts away from me, struggling to keep a hold of my urges to do wrong. Rubbing my jaw, I was surprised to find the scratchy stubble that had disappeared with the rest of my hair during chemo treatments. In fact, as Dee had helped me dress in the Lazarus chamber, I noticed that all of my hair was coming back. Carefully, I felt along my scalp, where the puckered and itchy scars from the surgery had been. Nothing but skin now, covered in fine hair that was now longer than it had been when I first emerged from the pit waters.  
  
This could be so much fun! The planning alone would be worth it! I would have to look into funding. A smile spread across my face. There were those who could easily be manipulated into funding my project. Some of the connections I had made lately would probably gladly throw in some money for this. If the blossoms on this tree of thought were going to give me the fruit I had in mind, stock in Edward Nigma would skyrocket.  
  
"We'll stay for a few days. I do need a bit of rest," I said, absently patting Dee's arms around my neck. She nuzzled my neck as a way of approving my decision. "There's much to do before we leave here anyway. Much to do."  
  
I hummed as I now embraced those thoughts of wrongdoing, shoving away the ridiculous thoughts of settling down and wasting my life _working_ a normal job for a living. I was Edward Nigma, the Riddler. And I was back.   
  



	14. Back to the Beginning

  
  
Notes for this chapter may be found at my website by following the link on my author page. The notes will be listed in the fanfiction section, under _The Beast Within_ directory.  
  
Thank you,  
Query  
  
  
  
The two spent longer at the fortress than intended. Dee had to watch and make certain Edward didn't take items that she knew to be of value, and probably would be very much missed if they disappeared. While she didn't understand it, he sent her into the Lazarus chamber to retrieve some of the dried scum that was left in the now empty pit. A small fissure had opened, draining away the water. The water that had dripped into the pit from the stone duct had dried up. All that remained now was a fine, powdery, almost ash-like substance that clung to the stone sides of the Pit like a bathtub ring.  
  
With great care, Dee collected the powder into a bag, sealing it and storing it among the wagon items. Also in the wagon nestled out of sight of the men, sat a few items that Eddie had managed to talk her into letting him take. He had told her they were for "the plan," unwilling to elaborate any further just yet.  
  
The room they stayed in was carefully cleaned. Every trace of them was removed, and the room and fortress swept through with fresh boughs of Korean pine to cover their scent. When they left the fortress, everything was just as they had found it upon arrival. Talia had been adamant that any suggestion that someone had been in the fortress or even near it be erased. While the men were very good at hiding their own tracks, Dee double-checked the path as she trailed behind the group as the descended to the village and down to the plane.  
  
Since the horses and wagon were no longer needed, Dee took them back to the village as Eddie and the men settled back into the plane. Eddie was kept out of sight, knowing that there would be questions if he were seen. After all, it wasn't every day that a very sick and worn looking man went into the mountains only to come out later, looking healthier than ever.  
  
"I'm glad to be going back to Gotham finally," Dee said as she settled back in her seat as the plane gained altitude.  
  
Eddie sat quietly, fingers steepled in front of him, tapping his lips with his index fingers. She could tell he was deep in thought, and conversation with him would be a bare minimum. Still, she took the chance of running her fingers through his new head of hair. Once out of the Lazarus, Eddie seemed only to improve more over the following few days. His appetite was near ravenous, and he ate anything she set in front of him. His hair was coming back as thick and full as before, with one difference: Edward Nigma's hair was now brown. The change was only a mild surprise to both, but was barely commented on. A change in hair color, or texture was common after chemotherapy.  
  
After a few days, his physical progress stopped, and all that was left was for him to regain the rest of his strength and stamina. His mind was as sharp as ever, perhaps sharper than before. All Dee knew was that he was planning something, and planning something big. As with any of his major plans, he was unwilling to share until he had the chance to do some research and confirm information he had. Whatever was going through his mind was certain to be quite spectacular.  
  
Hours later, the plane arrived in Gotham. A black panel van pulled up close to the plane, immediately collecting the question marked couple, the tigers, and the bags. Talia's men were left to report back to their mistress. Very soon, Dee knew the woman would call her in to hear Dee's version of the events in the Lazarus. Until then, she was free to remain in Gotham without question. When the time came, there would be no reason for Dee to tell any lies about what had happened. But with Eddie brewing up some sort of plan, certain things would have to be omitted.  
  
Once they had recovered from the trip, safely settled back in the warehouse where the whole adventure had begun, Edward called a meeting. Benny and Trigger joined Dee in the study. Laid out on the desk, or leaning against the bookcase just behind the desk, were the items that Eddie had brought back from China. Everything was carefully labeled. Also on the desk sat three manila envelopes, each with a name on it.  
  
Standing behind his desk, Eddie allowed a smile to twitch the corners of his mouth up as he picked up the envelopes. He handed and envelope to each. Taking his seat again, he put his feet up on the desk, leaning back in his chair, hands clasped together over his middle.  
  
"Inside the envelope is specific directives for each of you. I have divvied up certain jobs that need to be carried out according to the strength of each of you. Follow the instructions for each precisely, and report back to me with the findings. I will be doing my own research in the meantime. Do not speak to anyone about what you are doing or why. As always, keep as low a profile as you can."  
  
Each nodded, thumbing through the printed pages of orders. None of them asked any more questions than were needed to make certain they were clear on what needed to be done. The jobs varied from watching certain members of society, down to setting off alarms at very specific times and places.  
  
As the days passed and each report turned in, the warehouse became quite like a war room. Maps were spread out everywhere, not just in the study. A huge map of the city itself had been laid out in the game room; the pool table pushed to the side of the room to make room for the map. But this was a game, wasn't it? It was always a game with Edward Nigma when he was planning trouble for the Dark Knight. Eddie spent hours in his study, charting the information brought in on his computer. Whatever he had up his sleeve was beginning to look like his most elaborate plan yet.   
  
**Author's note:** This is the final chapter for this part of the story. I will be continuing it, however. Please check my notes for chapter 14, found at my website (follow the link to my homepage on my Author page here at FFN) for further explanation. I would also like to say thank you to all who have continued to read and comment. All responses are appreciated! 


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